Relates one of the best adventures in which Colin Clink has yet signalised himself.

THE sun was already setting behind the rising grounds which marked the westward extreme of Sherwood forest; long lines of variously-coloured cloud, like far-off promontories jutting into seas of gold and silver, marked the place of his decline, when Jerry Clink, silent and alone, might have been seen sitting on a turfen bench by the doorway of a sort of half hut, half cavern, which lay in a small dell in the heart of the waste, far below those horizontal lines of light that now only tinged the heath-covered tops of the higher hills, or brought out in ghostly relief the scattered and tempest-worn oaks which stood like skeletons far aloof around. By his side stood an earthen pitcher containing his favourite compound, and out of his mouth ascended in peaceful spires the smoke of the immortal herb; while beside him, piled against the wall, lay a heap of bright purple ling or heath, which he had cut and gathered during the day. The old man looked the very personification of solitary enjoyment; a being whose only communion was with earth and sky; and to whom cloud and mountain were as the face of friends. Solitude had no pain for him; day no unsteady pleasures, nor night any fears. The crow that flew high overhead would caw in the upper skies as it cast an eye downwards, and saw him creeping below. The goatsucker would birr in his face as it crossed his path in the gloom; and the cuckoo in his season would give utterance to his notes from the trees closest upon his habitation. He never molested them, but seemed, as it were, a part of the wild nature around him. A tame jackdaw, that hopped and chattered about his dwelling, was the only thing whose voice he heard there, save only that of one human being, that sometimes cried in complaint or pain from a deep part of the cavern behind the front room of his hut, and that was the voice of James Woodruff.

As Jerry sat thus, sipping, smoking, or talking occasionally to his saucy jackdaw, which had now perched itself on the point of one of his toes, and was impudently saluting the leg that supported him with repeated dabs of his heavy beak, the figure of a man, half seen amongst the thick heath which covered the ground, appeared at a distance. Sometimes he turned one way, sometimes another, as though winding out a devious path amongst the broken irregularities of the ground; and anon he would stand still, and look around, as though irresolute and doubtful which course to pursue. Jerry watched a long time, but at length lost sight of him, partly owing to the irregularities of the earth, and partly to the near approach of night. As darkness fell upon the solitary world about him, Jerry retired into his hut; and having lighted a small oil lamp, which shed about as much light around as might have been comprised within the circumference of a tolerably-sized round table, and left all the rest of the place in deep spectral shadow, he sat down, with a huge pair of owl-eyed spectacles on, to the perusal of the only book on the premises. Well nigh had he read himself to sleep, when the, to him, extraordinary phenomenon of a civil rap at the door was heard.

Were some learned gentleman meditating in his study, and at a time when he believed himself perhaps to be the most alone, suddenly to receive a blow beside the head from an unseen hand, he could not have started from his seat with more instantaneous abruptness than did our old friend, Jerry, on hearing that unusual summons. Throwing the door wide open, in order to obtain a better view of whoever might be outside, he beheld the spare figure of a man standing before him.

“Well! what do you want here?” gruffly demanded Jerry.

“I'm lost in the forest,” replied the stranger, “though that, to be sure, is my business, and not yours; but if you could either direct me elsewhere not far off, or give me shelter till daylight——”

“No!” interrupted Jerry, “I shall have nobody here.”

And thereupon he was about to shut the door in Mr. Peter Veriquear's face—for he it was—had not that gentleman made it his business to clap his foot against it, and thus prevent Jerry's intention being carried into effect. The latter instantly flew into a towering passion at this interruption, and with a fearful oath threatened to ran his knife through him if he did not give way immediately. Peter replied that he had no intention in the world to affront him, or to force himself into the house of any man who did not think it his duty to admit him; but at the same time he appealed to him as a Christian to give him shelter for that one night. Jerry swore that no man nor woman either should ever cross his threshold—especially at that time of night—unless they strode across his corpse. Saying which, he kicked Mr. Veriquear's shins as savagely as might a vicious horse, and set him dancing an original hornpipe of his own extemporaneous composition, while old Clink slammed to the door, and bolted and barred it immediately.

It seemed then that the stratagem which Colin had formed, and of which Mr. Veriquear was deputed to carry out the first part, had failed. This plan had been,—that Peter should introduce himself to Jerry as a travelling merchant who had lost himself, and was in want of a night's shelter. That he should contrive to learn as much as possible of the place while in it; and then, during the night, while Jerry was fast asleep, quietly open the door to Colin and Roger Calvert, who had joined him in the enterprise, and who should have been waiting not far off, in readiness to take advantage of the opportunity thus afforded them at once to secure old Jerry from doing any mischief, and then to effect the liberation of James Woodruff without disturbance or unnecessary violence. But as Jerry's brutality and caution had rendered this design ineffective even at its commencement, Peter had no other course to pursue but to wait about in the neighbourhood of the cottage—of the situation of which the parties had pretty well assured themselves previously—until such time as his confederates should come up, and other modes of operation could be devised.

Accordingly he selected as comfortable a spot as the nature of the ground would admit, within sight of the hut, where he crouched down amongst the brushy heath, and waited, as he conceived it his business to do, until at length he heard the bell of some distant village church-clock strike twelve. In the stillness of the night it seemed as though that long drawn out sound might have been heard across an infinite space of country; but it was the more welcome to Peter's ears for being the signal which had been agreed upon for the appearance of his associates, Colin and Roger Calvert. In a short time he discerned indistinctly two figures cautiously approaching over the broken ground, and apparently on the look-out for their preconcerted signal from the cottage-door. Peter rose, and advanced to meet them. It was with some difficulty at first sight of him that he prevented their retreating, as thinking all was not right, and they were discovered; but, having contrived to make himself known, they instantly approached, and heard from him with disappointment the story of his ineffectual attempt to get admitted to a nights lodging within Jerry's cottage.

Under these circumstances, how to get into the cottage without disturbing the savage inmate was now the question. They had come thus far on a ticklish enterprise, and to remain in the neighbourhood long might excite so much suspicion as would eventually render all their efforts nugatory. It was not, therefore, advisable to delay, even as a matter of common policy; while the daring spirit incident to young men of the age of Colin and his friend induced them to make an attempt, which, under present disadvantages, the more sober mind of Peter Veriquear considered rash in the extreme.

The hut which Jerry inhabited being built up at, and partly within, the mouth of a rock-hole, its roof reached scarcely so high as the ground behind it, while a chimney of ample width, built principally of wood and clay, rose some twelve inches above it at one end. Having taken as accurate observation as the darkness of the night would permit of the nature of the place, Colin now proposed that all three should descend the chimney,—himself taking the lead,—with as much silence as possible, in order to surprise and bind the old man, his grandfather, while yet asleep and incapable of making any effectual resistance. Having done this, a light was to be procured; and either by promises, threats, or search made on their own parts, the place in which poor Woodruff was imprisoned could then be discovered and broken open. And, although Mr. Veriquear at first objected that it was a sweep's business, not his, to go up and down chimneys, yet he eventually agreed to Colin's proposition, on the condition that he himself should be the last to descend, in order that the chimney might be swept and his clothes saved for him by those who went before.

Accordingly our hero, as a preliminary caution, crept upon the moss-grown roof, and placing his head over the top of the chimney, listened whether anything below was stirring. The light and fire, according to Peter's statement, had long ago been put out, but the air of the funnel over which he leaned was yet hot, sooty, and sulphureous. It would be a stifling undertaking to get down there; although the shortness of the distance from the top to the fire-place promised but a brief continuance to their struggle through such a black and uncomfortable region. As Colin attentively listened at the mouth of this ventage, he distinctly heard old Jerry snoring in his sleep sufficiently loud to have kept any bedfellow—had he been blessed with one—awake; and at every inspiration growling not unlike some jealous bull-dog when just aroused to the consciousness that his master's property is about to be invaded. Still he listened, and shortly heard more than that. Could it be? Was it possible? Yes, true enough, he indistinctly heard the voice of

He heard in that awful midnight silence the whisperings of poor Woodruff to his God, for freedom at some time to his spirit, and patience to endure until that freedom came! That sound wrought upon his brain like madness; it nerved him doubly for his enterprise, and urged him on to effect his object this time, or perish in the attempt. Every other consideration, in fact, vanished before the irrepressible determination he now felt, to set poor Fanny's father free, or die.

Having arranged with his companions that they should follow him as speedily as possible, he now prepared himself after the best manner he could, and having taken off his boots to prevent noise, crept cautiously into the chimney. After considerable trouble, and many pauses and hesitations in order to assure himself that Jerry yet continued in his heavy slumber, Colin landed with his feet one on each side the fire-place; and thence he stealthily and silently crept down upon the floor. The whole place seemed as dark as though he had been absolutely sightless; and every movement of the limbs required to be made with such degree of slowness and care as should render noise next to impossible even in case he should have the ill-luck to meet with any obstacle in his endeavours to gain the open portion of the apartment. Woodruff's voice was now still. Perhaps he had sunk to the silence of despair, or of that last flickering of hope which is closest akin to despair, with the heartache for his companion, as had been his condition for years;—unthinking how that heart ached thus for the last night at last, and that Providence had that moment sent a deliverer, even into whose own ear had entered his last beseeching for Heaven's mercy.

But though Colin heard nothing of Mr. Woodruff, the busy tongue of old Jerry began to utter unintelligible jargon in his sleep; during which some unconnected words about blood and everlasting damnation, muttered against some one who had offended him, turned Colin cold with undefinable horror. Had Jerry been awake, and uttered such knowingly, little in this sense would it have affected him. But asleep,—the senseless body in its time of rest, jabbering thus of horrors,—it seemed scarcely less than as if some evil spirit had been heard to speak through the mouth of a corpse, and had made known the fierce language of another and a darker world.

As he stood thus, listening to the horrible tongue that thus muttered in an unseen corner of the hut, Colin found that his friend, Roger Calvert, had safely descended and reached the hearthstone. Gradually they groped their way, directed by the nasal music which the old man unconsciously played, close to his bedside, without in the least disturbing him. Their object in this movement being to stand close ready to seize and hold him down the moment everything else was prepared. Scarcely were they so stationed ere a tremendous noise in the chimney, loud enough almost to have wakened the Seven Sleepers, frightened at once them from their propriety, and old Jerry from his pillow. In a clumsy attempt to make his descent, Peter Veriquear had so far lost all foothold that nothing remained to support him but his hands, by which he momentarily hung from the chimney-top. This not being of sufficiently stable material to support so important and weighty a personage, gave way all at once. Peter fell with a formidable noise with his feet plump in the ashes of the extinguished fire-place, which instantly flew up in a cloud that almost choked him from below, while a very uncomfortable quantity of rubbish fell upon his head from the funnel-top.

Simultaneously, as it were, with the disastrous fall of Mr. Peter Veriquear was the up-springing of Jerry Clink. With the sudden and desperate muscular energy of a giant, with which the circumstance of being so awakened unconsciously supplied him, he leaped upright from his bed several feet; and in all probability would have been the next instant on his feet in the room, had it not fortunately happened that the suddenness of his spring upwards had not allowed him time to call to recollection the presence of a heavy beam, which projected out not far above him. Against this he chanced to strike the top of his head with a degree of violence that sent him back almost insensible before even his lips had power to utter the least cry of complaint. This our adventurers instantly found by the helpless manner in which he lay on the bed, and immediately they proceeded to take advantage of the circumstance thus opportunely, though so strangely, thrown in their way.

Peter Veriquear still stood upright within the bars of the grate, ready to ascend again in case his disaster had rendered such a step advisable; but as his feet had stirred up the ashes in the grate, Colin was glad to observe a few live coals yet glimmering at the bottom. These he contrived to blow into sufficient heat to light a piece of dry half-burnt stick that lay on the hearth; and in the next moment the room in which they stood was distinctly illuminated throughout. The first step was to light a candle that stood on the table, and the next to see to the state and security of old Jerry. Peter Veriquear now descended from his situation, considerably shaken by his fall, though otherwise unhurt. The only complaint he made being that it was the builder's business to have constructed the chimney-top more solidly, and then it would never have been any concern of his to have tumbled down it.

On proceeding to the bed Colin found old Jerry lying all of a heap, his white hair covered with blood from a wound on the top, and himself apparently senseless. There was no time to be lost. He therefore left his friend Roger and Mr. Veriquear to assist the old man, at the same time instructing them very carefully to secure him if he should attempt to escape from them; while he himself went in search of the cavern, or whatever else it might be, where Mr. Woodruff was confined. As the best guide to this, he demanded in a loud voice, “Mr. Woodruff!—where are you?—where are you?”

There was no reply. Again he repeated those words, but in a state of feeling which left him almost unconscious of all he said or did.

“Here—here I am!” at length was answered in a melancholy tone, from an inner place far backhand apparently beyond a door of very small dimensions, securely fastened into the rock, and bound with heavy iron.

Colin flew to the spot whence the sound proceeded. The door was as fast as the rock it was built in. He madly strove to burst it, but with as little effect as the rain might beat against a precipice of adamant. Almost in a frenzy of excitement he rushed back, and scarcely knowing what he did, searched the cottage for the key. At last he found it under Jerry's pillow.

Colin rapidly hastened again to the door,—he inserted the key,—he turned it. A damp sweat stood upon his brow, and his eyeballs seemed almost to blaze, but their sight was nearly gone. He seized the handle, dashed the door open, and beheld James Woodruff standing with his hands chained together before him.

“You are free!” cried Colin, almost hysterically,—“free!—free!” He could but repeat that word; to him there was then no other in the language—“You are free!”

Poor James looked at him doubtfully,—madly, I might say,—and replied, “Do not play with me, whoever you are. It is cruel to trifle with sorrow like mine.”

“You are free!” again cried Colin. “Come forth!—you are free!”

James looked at him as though those deep black eyes, which yet had lost none of their lustre, would pierce to the very centre of his soul, and asked, “Is it—is it true?”

“It is!” exclaimed Colin, “as God is good!”

Poor Woodruff placed his hand upon his forehead, as though those words had annihilated thought, and planted insanity where reason was before. When he removed it again, his eyes were fixed on Colin, as though set there for everlasting. He staggered towards him with desperate energy of spirit, but with the feebleness of a child in body. He approached him,—stretched out his arms,—strove to speak,—failed,—strove a second time, and a second time he found no words. At last he shrieked,—literally shrieked, as might a woman, and fell on his face in a swoon.

It would be unnecessary to tell in detail the immediate circumstances that afterwards took place. These can be quite as well imagined as described. Suffice it simply to state, that Mr. Woodruff was soon raised from the ground, and placed on the bottom of Jerry Clink's bed; that a bottle of the old man's spirit was soon discovered by Roger Calvert in a cupboard, and brought forth, in order that a needful portion of it might be applied in the restoration of the poor captive to consciousness.

This desirable purpose having been achieved, Mr. Woodruff sat up, and looking wildly about him, again asked doubtfully if it really was true that he was free? Our hero eagerly assured him of the fact, and desired him not to trouble himself farther about it, as he was amongst none but friends, who would take care that no possible harm of any kind should again befal him. He reminded him that he himself was that same Colin Clink who had once before concerted a plan for his escape; entreated him to be calm and collected; and gave him the fullest assurances that all his troubles were now at an end, and that in the course of a short time he should be conveyed to a place where the infamous powers of his enemies should never be able to touch him again. But poor James still seemed incredulous,—lost in uncertainty, and scarcely decided whether to believe his senses, or to conclude that they had forgotten their proper office, and conspired with evil men to persuade him into the belief of a state which had no existence in reality. Colin informed him that the unprincipled villain Doctor Rowel, his brother-in-law, was now in prison, and awaiting his trial on a charge of murder, so that nothing was to be feared from that otherwise most formidable quarter: while in other respects the most influential persons were now his friends, and would not only secure the liberty he at present possessed, but also take steps to recover everything of which he and his daughter had been so long wrongfully dispossessed. At the name of his daughter James started,—for the memory of her had not before, from over-excitement, awakened in his mind. But when he heard her name,—only her name, and nothing more,—tears gushed from his eyes, and he sobbed convulsively during some minutes.

Colin knew that this passion would give the mind relief, and therefore abstained from farther discourse, and let his tears flow on.

Meantime, however, every necessary means were adopted to provide for an immediate and successful evacuation of the premises. The night was advancing, and every advantage ought to be taken of the cover afforded by darkness. The chain which bound Mr. Woodruff's hands was soon knocked off, and indignantly thrown by honest Roger through the window; while Jerry's long coat—that identical garment which we have seen him previously purchase in the Goswell-road—was forced on to the late prisoner's back, in order to enable him the better to resist that open air to which he was now so unaccustomed.

It must not be supposed that during all this time old Jerry himself had been neglected. When all the necessary precautions to prevent his attempts to resort to any violence on his recovery had been carefully adopted, they turned their attention to his condition. Every means had been used in order to bring him again to a state of sensibility, and at length their efforts had the desired effect.

The old man opened his eyes, at first gradually, but at length turned them in piercing scrutiny on the people about him. When he saw Mr. Peter Veriquear, who held firmly one of his feet down upon the mattress,—the self-same stranger he had that night turned away from his door,—when he beheld his own grandson, Colin, standing at his head, and the man over whom he was put in charge, James Woodruff himself, sitting free at the foot of the bed,—then old Jerry made an effort to get up; but the exertion was too much for him, and he fell back, loudly and deeply cursing all around him, until he became again insensible.

It was not by any means in accordance with Colin's principles or feelings to leave the old man in this state alone, whatever advantages it might afford him for making a safe retreat from the place, and thus securing Mr. Woodruff's safety against any pursuit on the part of Jerry himself, or of such of the people at the house of Doctor Rowel's brother as he might possibly arouse to join in such an expedition. He therefore begged of Roger and Mr. Veriquear to use their utmost exertions in restoring him to perfect consciousness before they took their departure, in order that no chance of his dying beyond the reach of assistance might possibly happen. Accordingly, after some trouble, he was a second time brought round; and when seemingly in a state to be questioned, Colin told him what their purpose there had been, and demanded to know whether, if they left him entirely at liberty to shift in the best way he could for himself after they were gone, he would agree neither to follow them himself, nor to give any alarm to any other person?—at the same time observing, that unless he would consent to this, he should find himself under the very painful necessity of tying him down to his own bedstead, and so leaving him to whatever fortune Providence might see fit to put in his way. On hearing this proposal, Jerry fell to cursing and swearing in a manner truly fearful, and declared that he would follow them wherever they went, as long as that rascally carcass he in habited had strength to put one leg before the other. Nay, he even carried his resentment beyond his mortal powers, and declared that he would track their footsteps as a spirit, after his body had dropped dead, as it might do, upon the road.

Finding all argument utterly useless, Colin at length determined to set out, trusting to the old man's miserable bodily condition for security against alarm or pursuit, without resorting to any coercive measures for detaining him in his present locality.

Accordingly, a short time found Mr. Woodruff and his three friends upon the wide waste of the forest, tracking their way in the dark northwards; while Jerry Clink, in a state of excitement bordering almost on delirium, rolled himself out of bed directly after their departure, with a determined resolution to make his way up to the house of Doctor Rowel's brother, and give the alarm touching what had that night happened.