brink of a large dell, overgrown with bushes, and spreading around
somewhat in the form of a rude semicircle. Here the robbers dismounted,
and led their reeking horses down the descent. Long Ned, who went first,
paused at a cluster of bushes, which seemed so thick as to defy
intrusion, but which, yielding on either side to the experienced hand of
the robber, presented what appeared the mouth of a cavern. A few steps
along the passage of this gulf brought them to a door, which, even seen
by torchlight, would have appeared so exactly similar in colour and
material to the rude walls on either side as to have deceived any
unsuspecting eye, and which, in the customary darkness brooding over it,
might have remained for centuries undiscovered. Touching a secret latch,
the door opened, and the robbers were in the secure precincts of the "Red
Cave." It may be remembered that among the early studies of our
exemplary hero the memoirs of Richard Turpin had formed a conspicuous
portion; and it may also be remembered that in the miscellaneous
adventures of that gentleman nothing had more delighted the juvenile
imagination of the student than the description of the forest cave in
which the gallant Turpin had been accustomed to conceal himself, his
friend, his horse,

"And that sweet saint who lay by Turpin's side;"

or, to speak more domestically, the respectable Mrs. Turpin. So strong
a hold, indeed, had that early reminiscence fixed upon our hero's mind,
that no sooner had he risen to eminence among his friends than he had put
the project of his childhood into execution. He had selected for the
scene of his ingenuity an admirable spot. In a thinly peopled country,
surrounded by commons and woods, and yet, as Mr. Robins would say if he
had to dispose of it by auction, "within an easy ride" of populous and
well-frequented roads, it possessed all the advantages of secrecy for