poken of it) was not my first time of being there. For, although I
could not bring myself to spy upon Uncle Reuben, as John Fry had done,
yet I thought it no ill manners, after he had left our house, to have a
look at the famous place, where the malefactor came to life, at least
in John's opinion. At that time, however, I saw nothing except the great
ugly black morass, with the grisly reeds around it; and I did not care
to go very near it, much less to pry on the further side.

Now, on the other hand, I was bent to get at the very bottom of this
mystery (if there were any), having less fear of witch or wizard, with
a man of Uncle Reuben's wealth to take my part, and see me through. So
I rattled the ramrod down my gun, just to know if the charge were right,
after so much walking; and finding it full six inches deep, as I like to
have it, went boldly down the steep gorge of rock, with a firm resolve
to shoot any witch unless it were good Mother Melldrum. Nevertheless to
my surprise, all was quiet, and fair to look at, in the decline of
the narrow way, with great stalked ferns coming forth like trees, yet
hanging like cobwebs over one. And along one side, a little spring was
getting rid of its waters. Any man might stop and think; or he might
go on and think; and in either case, there was none to say that he was
making a fool of himself.

When I came to the foot of this ravine, and over against the great black
slough, there was no sign of Master Huckaback, nor of any other living
man, except myself, in the silence. Therefore, I sat in a niche of rock,
gazing at the slough, and pondering the old tradition about it.

They say that, in the ancient times, a mighty necromancer lived in the
wilderness of Exmoor. Here, by spell and incantation, he built himself
a strong high palace, eight-sided like a spider's web, and standing on
a central steep; so that neither man nor beast could cross the moors
without his knowledge. If he wished to rob and slay a traveller, or to
have wild ox, or stag for food, he had nothing more to do than sit at
one of his eight windows, and point his unholy book at him. Any moving
creature, at which that book was pointed, must obey the call, and come
from whatever distance, if sighted once by the wizard.

This was a bad condition of things, and all the country groaned under
it; and Exmoor (although the most honest place that a man could wish
to live in) was beginning to get a bad reputation, and all th