whole of the extensive table-land on the summit of Pendle Hill; and a
long lurid streak fell on the darkling moss-pool near which the wizard
had stood. But when it attained its utmost height, it revealed the
depths of the forest below, and a red reflection, here and there, marked
the course of Pendle Water. The excitement of the abbot and his
companions momently increased, and the sentinels shouted as each new
beacon was lighted. At last, almost every hill had its watch-fire, and
so extraordinary was the spectacle, that it seemed as if weird beings
were abroad, and holding their revels on the heights.

Then it was that the abbot, mounting his steed, called out to the
monks--"Holy fathers, you will follow to the abbey as you may. I shall
ride fleetly on, and despatch two hundred archers to Huddersfield and
Wakefield. The abbots of Salley and Jervaux, with the Prior of
Burlington, will be with me at midnight, and at daybreak we shall march
our forces to join the main army. Heaven be with you!"

"Stay!" cried a harsh, imperious voice. "Stay!"

And, to his surprise, the abbot beheld Nicholas Demdike standing before
him. The aspect of the wizard was dark and forbidding, and, seen by the
beacon light, his savage features, blazing eyes, tall gaunt frame, and
fantastic garb, made him look like something unearthly. Flinging his
staff over his shoulder, he slowly approached, with his black hound
following close by at his heels.

"I have a caution to give you, lord abbot," he said; "hear me speak
before you set out for the abbey, or ill will befall you."

"Ill _will_ befall me if I listen to thee, thou wicked churl," cried the