denied hovered by night about the ill-omened spot, to fright away
all travellers who strove to pass that way.

For a while the fearful sounds of hooting and laughter continued,
under cover of which he crept nearer and nearer to the centre of
the dell. Presently they ceased, and a death-like silence ensued.
Cuthbert dared not move, and scarcely dared to breathe. This was
the most trying experience he had yet had. He had felt far less
fear on the darkly-flowing river and in that strange underground
cellar, against both of which the wise woman had warned him.

But after a long pause of silence he heard another and a different
laugh--a laugh in which he recognized the sardonic intonation he
had recently heard from the lips of Long Robin.

"I trow that has been enow," spoke a voice nigh at hand, though the
speaker was invisible owing to the thick growth of bushes. "If that
sound were caused by aught but a rabbit or wildcat, I wager the
hardy traveller has taken to his heels and fled. But I misdoubt me
that it was anything human. There be sounds and to spare in the
forest at night. It is long since I have been troubled by visitors
to this lone spot. The pixies and I have the dell to ourselves. Ha,
ha!"

"Robin's voice again!" whispered Cuthbert to himself, creeping
forward with the cautious, snake-like movement that he had learned
when snaring birds or rabbits to furnish the scanty larder at the
Gate House. He advanced by slow degrees, and soon gained what he
desired--a view of his quarry and of the heart of the dell.