It was more
likely to be one of the hue and cry who had smelt us out, and hoped
perhaps to be able to reconnoitre without being perceived on so awful a
night. Whenever Elzevir went out foraging, he carried with him that
silver-butted pistol which had once been Maskew's, but left behind the
old rook-piece. We had plenty of powder and slugs now, having obtained a
store of both from Ratsey, and Elzevir had bid me keep the matchlock
charged, and use it or not after my own judgement, if any came to the
cave; but gave as his counsel that it was better to die fighting than to
swing at Dorchester, for that we should most certainly do if taken. We
had agreed, moreover, on a pass-word, which was _Prosper the
Bonaventure_, so that I might challenge betimes any that I heard coming,
and if they gave not back this countersign might know it was not Elzevir.
So now I reached out for the piece, which lay beside me on the floor, and
scrambled to my feet; lifting the deckle in the darkness, and feeling
with my fingers in the pan to see 'twas full of powder.
The lull in the storm still lasted, and I heard the footsteps
advancing, though with uncertain slowness, and once after a heavy
stumble I thought I caught a muttereth oath, as if someone had struck
his foot against a stone.
Then I shouted out clear in the darkness a 'Who goes there?' that rang
again through the stone roofs.
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