the neighbouring windmill
of Kippilaw, Dick was somewhat startled to observe that his conductor
entered the hillside by a passage or cavern, of which he himself, though
well acquainted with the spot, had never seen nor heard.

"You may still return," said his guide, looking ominously back upon him;
but Dick scorned to show the white feather, and on they went. They
entered a very long range of stables; in every stall stood a coal-black
horse; by every horse lay a knight in coal-black armour, with a drawn
sword in his hand; but all were as silent, hoof and limb, as if they had
been cut out of marble. A great number of torches lent a gloomy lustre
to the hall, which, like those of the Caliph Vathek, was of large
dimensions. At the upper end, however, they at length arrived, where a
sword and horn lay on an antique table.

"He that shall sound that horn and draw that sword," said the stranger,
who now intimated that he was the famous Thomas of Ercildoun, "shall, if
his heart fail him not, be king over all broad Britain. So speaks the
tongue that cannot lie. But all depends on courage, and much on your
taking the sword or horn first."

Dick was much disposed to take the sword, but his bold spirit was quailed
by the supernatural terrors of the hall, and he thought to unsheathe the
sword first might be construed into defiance, and give offence to the
powers of the mountain. He took the bugle with a trembling hand, and
blew a feeble note, but loud enough to produce a terrible answer. Thunder
rolled in stunning peals through the immense hall; horses and men started
to life; the steeds snorted, stamped, ground their bits, and tossed their
heads; the warriors sprang to their feet, clashed their armour, and
brandished their swords. Dick's terror was extreme at seeing the whole
army, which had been so lately silent as the grave, in uproar, and about
to rush on him. He dropped the horn, and made a feeble attempt to seize
the enchanted sword; but at the same moment a voice pronounced aloud the
mysterious words--

"Woe to the coward, that ever he was born,
Who did not draw the sword before he blew the horn!"

At the same time a whirlwind of irresistible fury howled through the long
hall, bore the unfortunate horse-jockey clear out of the mouth of the
cavern, and precipitated him over a steep bank of loose stones, where the
shepherds found him the next morning, with just breath sufficient to tell
his fearful tale, a