ch Bowl," was the order given by Old Hurricane as he
followed the minister into the carriage. "And now, sir," he continued,
addressing his companion, "I think you had better repeat that part of
the church litany that prays to be delivered from 'battle, murder and
sudden death,' for if we should be so lucky as to escape Black Donald
and his gang, we shall have at least an equal chance of being upset in
the darkness of these dreadful mountains."

"A pair of saddle mules would have been a safer conveyance, certainly,"
said the minister.

Old Hurricane knew that, but, though a great sensualist, he was a brave
man, and so he had rather risk his life in a close carriage than suffer
cold upon a sure-footed mule's back.

Only by previous knowledge of the route could any one have told the way
the carriage went. Old Hurricane and the minister both knew that they
drove, lumbering, over the rough road leading by serpentine windings
down that rugged fall of ground to the river's bank, and that then,
turning to the left by a short bend, they passed in behind that range of
horseshoe rocks that sheltered Hurricane Hall--thus, as it were doubling
their own road. Beneath that range of rocks, and between it and another
range, there was an awful abyss or chasm of cleft, torn and jagged rocks
opening, as it were, from the bowels of the earth, in the shape of a
mammoth bowl, in the bottom of which, almost invisible from its great
depth, seethed and boiled a mass of dark water of what seemed to be a
lost river or a subterranean spring. This terrific phenomenon was called
the Devil's Punch Bowl.

Not far from the brink of this awful abyss, and close behind the
horseshoe range of rocks, stood a humble log-cabin, occupied by an old
free negress, who picked up a scanty living by telling fortunes and
showing the way to the Punch Bowl. Her cabin went by the name of the
Witch's Hut, or Old Hat's Cabin. A short distance from Hat's cabin the
road became impassable, and the travelers got out, and, preceded by the
coachman bearing the lantern, struggled along on foot through the
drifted snow and against the buffeting wind and sleet to where a faint
light guided them to the house.

The pastor knocked. The door was immediately opened by a negro, whose
sex from the strange anomalous costume it was difficult to guess. The
tall form was rigged out first in a long, red, cloth petticoat, above
which was buttoned a blue cloth surtout. A man's old black bea