Up in the timber, it was equally steep, but there were bushes and limbs to hang on to, and also the ground was solid beneath their feet. At last, after many rests, they reached the high rocks, a hard formation giving a castellated appearance to this ridge and others that billowed away in the distance. Through a cleft in the rocks, Fult led the way, and, emerging on the far side, they found themselves under an overhanging shelf,--a "rock-house," Aunt Ailsie called it,--which was dry and comfortable, with some flat stones to sit on, and from which there was a glorious view. Aunt Ailsie was pretty nervous. "Get out on top and take a far look around afore I begin," she said to Fult. When he returned, she removed her black sunbonnet, laid it on her lap, and inquired: "What'll I start with?" "I already sung 'Turkish Lady' and 'Barbary Allen' and one or two more for her," he said. "The older they are, the better she likes them--them old way-back ones that come over from old England and Scotland long time ago." "Yes," said Isabel, with enthusiasm; "think of finding one eight hundred years old, like 'Turkish Lady'!" "Well, I'll sing you them my old granny teached me," said Aunt Ailsie. "I ricollect one has your name in hit; 'Lady Isabel and the Elf Knight' is hits name." She began in a high-pitched voice, to a weird minor tune:-- "Lady Isabel sets in her bower a-sewing, All as the gowans grow gay, Then she hears an Elf Knight his horn a-blowing, The first morning in May." Enchanted by the magic strains, Lady Isabel makes a wish that she might possess both the horn and its blower. Whereupon the Elf Knight leaps into her window, seizes her, and takes her on his horse far away into the deep greenwood, only to inform her on arriving there that he has already slain seven king's daughters on that spot, and that she shall be the eighth. She pleads for a moment of happiness first, begging him to sit down and rest his head on her knee for a little while before she dies. He does so; she strokes his head, weaves a spell over him, and lulls him to sleep; then binds him with his sword-belt and plunges a "dag-dirk" into his heart, bidding him lie there and be a husband to the seven slain women. The next ballad was a many-stanzaed one, "Lord Thomas and Fair Ellender":-- "'O mother, O mother, come riddle my sport, Come riddle it all as one, Must I go marry Fair Ellender, Or bring the Brown Girl home?' "'The Brown Girl she has houses and lands, Fair Ellender she has none; I charge you on my blessing, Lord Thomas, Go bring the Brown Girl home.' "'Go saddle up my milk-white steed, Go saddle him up for me; I'll go and invite Fair Ellender My wedding for to see.' "He rode, he rode, till he came to the Hall; He tingled all on the ring; Nobody so ready as Fair Ellender herself To rise and bid him come in.