from their play, and stared at him with such a fixed statue-like
gaze, and such strange uncouth, lack-lustre countenances, that
his heart turned within him, and his knees smote together. His
companion now emptied the contents of the keg into large flagons,
and made signs to him to wait upon the company. He obeyed with
fear and trembling; they quaffed the liquor in profound silence,
and then returned to their game.

By degrees, Rip's awe and apprehension subsided. He even
ventured, when no eye was fixed upon him, to taste the beverage
which he found had much of the flavor of excellent Hollands. He
was naturally a thirsty soul, and was soon tempted to repeat the
draught. One taste provoked another; and he reiterated his visits
to the flagon so often, that at length his senses were
overpowered, his eyes swam in his head, his head gradually
declined, and he fell into a deep sleep.

On waking, he found himself on the green knoll whence he had
first seen the old man of the glen. He rubbed his eyes--it was a
bright sunny morning. The birds were hopping and twittering among
the bushes, and the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the
pure mountain breeze. "Surely," thought Rip, "I have not slept
here all night." He recalled the occurrences before he fell
asleep. The strange man with the keg of liquor--the mountain
ravine--the wild retreat among the rocks--the woe-begone party at
ninepins--the flagon--"Oh! that flagon! that wicked flagon!"
thought Rip--"what excuse shall I make to Dame Van Winkle?"

He looked round for his gun, but in place of the clean well-oiled
fowling-piece, he found an old firelock lying by him, the barrel