s yon?" he asked of a rustic passing.

"Pendennis Castle."

As he stepped upon the short crisp sward under its walls, he started at
a violent sound from within, as of the roar of some tormented lion. Soon
the sound became articulate, and he heard the following words bayed out
with an amazing vigor:

"Brag no more, Old England; consider you are but an island! Order back
your broken battalions! home, and repent in ashes! Long enough have your
hired tories across the sea forgotten the Lord their God, and bowed down
to Howe and Kniphausen--the Hessian!--Hands off, red-skinned jackal!
Wearing the king's plate,[A] as I do, I have treasures of wrath against
you British."

[Footnote A: Meaning, probably, certain manacles.]

Then came a clanking, as of a chain; many vengeful sounds, all
confusedly together; with strugglings. Then again the voice:

"Ye brought me out here, from my dungeon to this green--affronting yon
Sabbath sun--to see how a rebel looks. But I show ye how a true
gentleman and Christian can conduct in adversity. Back, dogs! Respect a
gentleman and a Christian, though he _be_ in rags and smell of
bilge-water."

Filled with astonishment at these words, which came from over a massive
wall, enclosing what seemed an open parade-space, Israel pressed
forward, and soon came to a black archway, leading far within,
underneath, to a grassy tract, through a tower. Like two boar's tusks,
two sentries stood on guard at either side of the open jaws of the arch.
Scrutinizing our adventurer a moment, they signed him permission to
enter.

Arrived at the end of the arched-way, where the sun shone, Israel stood
transfixed, at the scene.

Like some baited bull in the ring, crouched the Patagonian-looking
captive, handcuffed as before; the grass of the green trampled, and
gored up all about him, both by his own movements and those of the
people around. Except some soldiers and sailors, these seemed mostly
townspeople, collected here out of curiosity. The stranger was
outlandishly arrayed in the sorry remains of a half-Indian,
half-Canadian sort of a dress, consisting of a fawn-skin jacket--the fur
outside and hanging in ragged tufts--a half-rotten, bark-like belt of
wampum; aged breeches of sagathy; bedarned worsted stockings to the
knee; old moccasins riddled with holes, their metal tags yellow with
salt-water rust; a faded red woollen bonnet, not unlike a Russian
night-cap, or a portentous, ensanguined full-moon, all s