“Yes, come on,” said the hag, and she slowly rose from her crouching posture, and, to Max’s great horror, stood before him, nearly six feet five in height. “Come on,” she cried, “come on!” and on she went with long strides, while Max, frightened out of his seventeen senses, followed her, and the others came close behind. Suddenly the hag stopped: “Dennis O’Connor,” said she, “you lade the way until we come to the foot of the steps, thin the Sassenach must go on wid me alone.” Well, on they went, round by the back door, through the kitchens (where, strange to say, not a servant was to be seen), until they came to the top of a flight of steep stone steps, to all appearances cut out of the solid rock. “Bring a light,” said the hag; “bring two lights.” Indeed even two lights failed to throw much light on the subject, only serving to show the horrors of the darkness before them, for here and there in the wall were narrow passages or crevices, and certain projections which cast deep shadows, and had a very fearful effect. The light emitted from two small tallow candles did not much improve the matter, for, though the shadows became less, the crevices remained as dark and darker than ever. “Oh, I can’t go on,” said Max, turning very white, and looking as if he were going to faint. “Here,” said the hag, drawing a flask from her bosom (very like a railway flask, but perhaps they use them in St. Patrick’s purgatory), “drink this,” said she; “’tis good an’ old, for ’tis it that sperrited Brien Boru when he fought that mighty battle, when meself saw 3,000 Danes lying dead together.” “Drink,” said Dennis; “I’ll take a pull at it, too; ’twill keep your courage up, man.” “Oh, ’tisn’t that I’m afraid,” said Max, but he drank at the flask, and finding it good, tried it again, and the colour came to his face, and down the stone steps he followed the grana, until they stood at a heavy oaken door. “The kay,” said the grana, and Dennis handed her an ancient clumsy-looking key. She turned it in the lock, and pushed open the door with such force that it went back with a tremendous crash, causing a sudden gust of cold air that put out both the candles. But they were not in the dark! No; for there was a faint and ghastly light, just enough to show them that they were in a huge chamber hewn out of the rock. Max’s face became livid. He looked at his companions; their faces were livid too, and as for the grana, her countenance was something unearthly. Presently there was a sound like the clanking of a heavy chain, and far away, somewhere in the depths of the vault, were alternately heard heavy despairing groans and a wailing cry, like “My head! my head!” “That’s _him_,” said the grana. “Out, every mother’s son of ye, save the Sassenach an’ me. Quick, or the spell will be broken;” and seizing Max tight by the wrist, she pulled him on into the vault.