high above his head, swore, according to the picturesque phraseology
of the antique school, that when Chanticleer had sounded twice his
merry horn, deeds of blood would be wrought, and Murder walk abroad
with silent feet.

Hardly had he finished this awful oath when, from the red-tiled roof
of a distant homestead, a cock crew. He laughed a long, low, bitter
laugh, and waited. Hour after hour he waited, but the cock, for
some strange reason, did not crow again. Finally, at half-past
seven, the arrival of the housemaids made him give up his fearful
vigil, and he stalked back to his room, thinking of his vain hope
and baffled purpose. There he consulted several books of ancient
chivalry, of which he was exceedingly fond, and found that, on every
occasion on which his oath had been used, Chanticleer had always
crowed a second time. 'Perdition seize the naughty fowl,' he
muttered, 'I have seen the day when, with my stout spear, I would
have run him through the gorge, and made him crow for me an 'twere
in death!' He then retired to a comfortable lead coffin, and stayed
there till evening.



CHAPTER IV



The next day the ghost was very weak and tired. The terrible
excitement of the last four weeks was beginning to have its effect.
His nerves were completely shattered, and he started at the
slightest noise. For five days he kept his room, and at last made