“For heaven’s sake!” said old Boniface, approaching Ned, “for heaven’s sake, give up this wild freak. How can you, a mere lad, think of conquering any one of that desperate gang when so many valiant men have fallen in the attempt? Take _my_ advice, Ned Warbeck, steer clear of that murdering crew.” “Look here, landlord,” said Ned, gaily, “there is one favour I have to ask of you, and that is, keep a still tongue in your head. I shall only be absent an hour or two at most. Do not tell my comrades which way I have gone should they ask, but say you think I have gone towards the Hall for something I have left behind. Do this, and I shall well repay you in times to come.” So speaking, Wildfire Ned dashed away into a neighbouring thicket, and was soon lost to view. In a few moments he emerged again into the open country. Over bridge and ditch he gaily rode, humming a tune. The moon came out, and shone with unusual splendour. Ere long he approached the borders of the lonely heath, which, like a white expanse of silvered scenery, lay open before him. His brave mare Starlight had carried him nobly, but from pure instinct began to snort and slacken her pace as she approached the wilderness-like plain. In the far distance Wildfire Ned saw ravenous night birds circling in the sky, and alighting on a huge oak tree. As he approached still nearer his mare stood still, and cocked her ears. Ned now had a full view of the famous old oak tree, and on its wide spreading branches he distinctly saw dark rows of dead men hanging against the bright sky. The sight filled him with horror, but not with fear. “What inhuman scoundrels!” he sighed. “They must be fiends ever to act in this manner.” Nothing daunted, he dismounted from his mare, and tied her to a stump. As he did so he heard a voice, which said, slowly and solemnly— “Edward Warbeck, beware! Retrace your steps; no one approaches the blasted oak and lives!” “Lying fiends!” said Wildfire Ned, “lying fiends! wherever you be, I fear not your crazy croakings!” As he spoke fire flashed from his eyes, and he boldly advanced. Dry leaves rustled in the wind, the breezes sighed, and as he looked up at that fearful gibbet with its many human forms dangling in the air a sudden tremor thrilled his whole frame. The face of each hapless victim was turned downwards towards him, and they seemed to smile grimly and savagely at his upturned face. Beyond this, however, nothing was visible. “The sight is indeed horrible,” said Ned, half aloud; “but where is the much-vaunted Skeleton Crew? Where are these savages hidden? and whence came that voice of warning?” Wildfire Ned’s position, as must be confessed, was a critical one. Here was a bold youth, alone and single handed, gazing on the dead, and standing, as it were, on enchanted ground. “Come forth, grim demons of the land and deep,” said Ned, with a ringing defiant tone. “Death-wing, come forth and encounter me!” He turned his head suddenly.