score, and with that he felt he was getting a
crick in the back of his neck, and brought his eyes down to earth
again. It seemed to him that, even in the dark, a change had come over
the down since he'd been sittin' there, and the whole lie of the ground
had a furrin look. Hows'ever, he hadn't much time to puzzle about this,
for lo and behold! as he stared about him, what should he see under the
lew of the next rock but a party of little people, none of 'em more
than a thumb high, dancing in a ring upon the turf! They broke off and
laughed as soon as my father caught sight of 'em; and, says one little
whipper-snapper, stepping forward and pulling off his cap with a bow,
'Good evening, my man!' 'Sir to you!' says my father. 'There's a good
liquor at the Rising Sun,' says the little man. 'None better,' says my
father. 'I know by a deal better,' says the little man. 'Would you like
to taste it?' 'Would I not?' says my father. 'Well, then,' says the
little man, 'there's a shipfull of wine gone ashore early this night on
Par Sands, and maybe the Par folk haven't had time yet to clear the
cargo. What d'ee say to _Ho! and away for Par Beach!_ Eh?' 'With all
the pleasure in life,' says my father, thinkin' it a joke; so '_Ho! and
away for Par Beach!_' he calls out, mimicking the little man. The words
weren't scarcely out of his mouth before a wind seemed to catch him up,
though gently, from his seat on the boulder, and in two twinklings he
was standin' on Par Sands. There was a strong sea running, and out
beyond the edge of the tide my father spied a ship breaking up. But if
she broke up fast, her cargo was meltin' faster, for a whole crowd of
folk had gathered on the sands, and were rolling the casks of wine up
from the water and carting them away for dear life. My father and the
little people couldn't much as ever lay hands on a solitary one, and,
what was worse they hadn't but fairly broached it before a cry went up
that the Preventive men were coming. Sure enough, my father, pricking
up his ears, could hear horses gallopin' down along the road above the
sands. 'Dear, dear!' says the little man, 'this is a most annoyin'
thing to happen! But luckily I know a place where there's better liquor
still, and no risk of bein' interrupted. So _Ho! and away for Squire
Tremayne's cellar!_'

"'_Ho! and away for Squire Tremayne's cellar!_' called out my father;
and the next thing he knew he found himself in the cellar of Squire
Tremayne'