and haughtiness, and hatred, to utter scorn of God and man, and
brutality towards dumb animals. There was only one good thing about
them, if indeed it were good, to wit, their faith to one another, and
truth to their wild eyry. But this only made them feared the more, so
certain was the revenge they wreaked upon any who dared to strike a
Doone. One night, some ten years ere I was born, when they were sacking
a rich man's house not very far from Minehead, a shot was fired at them
in the dark, of which they took little notice, and only one of them knew
that any harm was done. But when they were well on the homeward road,
not having slain either man or woman, or even burned a house down, one
of their number fell from his saddle, and died without so much as a
groan. The youth had been struck, but would not complain, and perhaps
took little heed of the wound, while he was bleeding inwardly. His
brothers and cousins laid him softly on a bank of whortle-berries, and
just rode back to the lonely hamlet where he had taken his death-wound.
No man nor woman was left in the morning, nor house for any to dwell in,
only a child with its reason gone.*

*This vile deed was done, beyond all doubt.

This affair made prudent people find more reason to let them alone than
to meddle with them; and now they had so entrenched themselves, and
waxed so strong in number, that nothing less than a troop of soldiers
could wisely enter their premises; and even so it might turn out ill, as
perchance we shall see by-and-by.

For not to mention the strength of the place, which I shall describe in
its proper order when I come to visit it, there was not one among them
but was a mighty man, straight and tall, and wide, and fit to lift four
hundredweight. If son or grandson of old Doone, or one of the northern