light from its edges. You can only see
such a thing from the level of the sea, and it looks very odd when you
see it, as if the moon and you were a pair of playing children, feeling
round a corner for a glimpse of one another. But plain enough it was,
and far too plain, that the doubling of that little cape would treble my
danger, by reason of the bold moonlight, I knew that my only refuge was
another great hollow in the crags between the cave I had escaped from
and the point--a place which is called the 'Church Cave,' from an
old legend that it leads up to Flamborough church. To the best of my
knowledge, it does nothing of the kind, at any rate now; but it has a
narrow fissure, known to few except myself, up which a nimble man
may climb; and this was what I hoped to do. Also it has a very narrow
entrance, through which the sea flows into it, so that a large boat can
not enter, and a small one would scarcely attempt it in the dark, unless
it were one of my own, hard pressed. Now it seemed almost impossible for
me to cross that moonlight without being seen by those fellows in the
boat, who could pull, of course, four times as fast as I could swim, not
to mention the chances of a musket-ball. However, I was just about to
risk it, for my limbs were growing very cold, when I heard a loud
shout from the cave which I had left, and knew that the men there were
summoning their comrades. These at once lay out upon their oars, and
turned their backs to me, and now was my good time. The boat came
hissing through the water toward the Dovecote, while I stretched away
for the other snug cave. Being all in a flurry, they kept no look-out;
if the moon was against me, my good stars were in my favor. Nobody
saw me, and I laughed in my wet sleeves as I thought of the rage of
Carroway, little knowing that the fine old fellow was beyond all rage or
pain."

"How wonderful your luck was, and your courage too!" cried Mary, who had
listened with bright tears upon her cheeks. "Not one man in a thousand
could have done so bold a thing. And how did you get away at last, poor
Robin?"

"Exactly as I meant to do, from the time I formed my plan. The Church
has ever been a real friend in need to me; I took the name for a lucky
omen, and swam in with a brisker stroke. It is the prettiest of all the
caves, to my mind, though the smallest, with a sweet round basin, and a
playful little beach, and nothing very terrible about it. I landed, and
rested with