but there was no call from the hut, and the officer, with
ever-increasing anxiety, bade his men to kick up a row--or words to that
effect. No command they ever received was more easy of fulfilment.
They laughed and talked; they cut down trees and cleaned their breakfast
utensils with overwhelming demonstration; they shouted, they even sang
and roared in chorus, but without effect. Noon arrived and passed,
still Cormac slept on. It was worse than perplexing--it was becoming
desperate!

The officer commanding the party was a brave man; so was the sub. Their
native courage overcame their superstitious fears.

"I'll be battle-axed!" exclaimed the first, using a very objectionable
old British oath, "if I don't rouse him, though all the witches in
Albion should withstand me."

"And I'll back you up," said the sub with a frown that spoke volumes--
perhaps, considering the times, we should have written--rolls of
papyrus.

Accordingly the two went towards the hut, with pluck and misgiving
contending for the mastery.

"Perchance the witch may have returned while we slept," said the sub in
a low voice.

"Or she may have re-entered the hut invisibly--as she did at first,"
replied the other.

The door was found to be on the latch. The lieutenant opened it a
little and peeped in.

"Ho! Cormac!" he shouted; "hi! ho! hooroo hooh!" but he shouted in
vain.

Becoming accustomed to the dim light, he perceived that there was no one
within to answer to the call, so he suddenly sprang in, followed by the
sub and a few of the more daring spirits among the men.

A hasty search revealed the fact that the lad was not to be seen. A
more minute and thorough inspection showed clearly that no one was
there. They did not, of course, discover the cave, for the plank had
been removed, but they gazed solemnly into the depths of the dark chasm
and wondered if poor Cormac had committed suicide there, or if the witch
had murdered him and thrown him in. Having neither rope nor ladder, and
the chasm appearing to be bottomless, they had no means of settling the
question.

But now a point of far greater moment pressed on their consideration.
What was to be said to King Hudibras about the disappearance of the lad?
Would he believe them? It was not likely. And, on the other hand,
what would Gadarn say? Would _he_ believe them? He might, indeed, for
he knew them to be faithful, but that would not mitigate his wrath, and
when he was r