With his keen and glittering eyes fixed on the place where the sun had set, Paul Crubach sat on a fragment of volcanic rock. He seemed wan, pale, and weary; his masses of tangled hair and his primitive garb of deerskin seemed to have been scorched by fire, and his bare legs and arms were covered with scars and bruises. Propping himself on his cross-staff, he arose with apparent difficulty on the approach of MacGregor, who said, with anxiety,-- "In Heaven's name, what has happened--what have you done, Paul?" "I have opened the House of Invocation. I have consulted the oracle of the _Tighghairm_," said he, solemnly. "Did it speak?" asked Rob, with growing wonder. "Listen; I passed the night in the Coir nan Uriskin." "In the cave of the wild shaggy men!" exclaimed the other, starting with more of actual fear than astonishment in his manner. "Yea, even there," replied Paul, closing his eyes for a moment, and sighing deeply. "What did you see--what did you hear?" "Listen, and I shall tell you what happened." CHAPTER XXVII THE HOUSE OF INVOCATION. Paul related that after sunset on the preceding evening he had sought that remarkable cavern or den, which lies at the base of Benvenue. It is a deep and circular hollow in the side of the mountain, about six hundred yards wide at the top, but narrows steeply towards the bottom, on all sides surrounded by stupendous masses of shattered rock, covered so thickly with wild birches that their interlaced branches almost intercept the sunlight even at noon. For ages, local superstition has made this place the abode of the Urisks, wild shaggy men, or lubber-fiends, who were fashioned like the ancient satyrs, being half-men and half-goats; thus their very name was fraught with many indescribable terrors, and hence the spot was avoided by the most hardy huntsmen, even at mid-day. There Paul had repaired as the night was closing in, carrying with him, instead of his cross-staff, the blade of an ancient sword without a hilt, and a black cat securely tied in a bag. Selecting the very centre of the coir, or hollow, he drew a circle three times round him with the sword-blade, and collecting a quantity of dry branches, dead leaves, and moss, he added some pieces of coffin-boards, brought from his remarkable hut in Strathfillan, and lighted a fire. Amid the growing flames he thrust the sword-blade firmly into the earth, with the point uppermost. Then he drew from the bag the fated cat, the paws of which were securely tied with a cord. As the increasing flames rose fast, he thrust the poor animal upon the upright sword, impaling it alive, the supposed necessity of the ordeal rendering Paul completely callous and heedless of the cruelty he was perpetrating.