might again unite their shattered and scattered forces; these, in broken bands, were straggling to and fro, and several companies of Garibaldians were deputed to decimate these gentry, if they objected to be taken prisoners, and so put up with the casualties of fair and open war.
"Some considerable distance from the city of Palermo there lies a region of wild and sterile mountains for the most part, the interior of which is traversed by a valley almost parallel to one much better known as the Valley of Ispica, the former being shunned by the dwellers of the region from superstitions of a most formidable character, and which, in fact, are its especial property, thus rendering its precincts unapproachable; and even those who have by hap strayed into its recesses have brought back such a catalogue of its horrors as was always calculated, from immemorial time, to curdle the very blood! Ugh!"
Steve Lidyard shuddered as he spoke, and sent a "sensational" thrill through his listeners.
"In fact, the Harz Mountains, the Black Forest, with their charcoal-burners, their Erl kings and grisly hunters, the witch-haunted 'Brocken,' the impish Blocksberg, scarcely rival in diablerie the traditions of this eldrich valley, and certainly do not outvie them."
"But, goodness gracious me, Mr. Lidyard," cried Lucy Parker, "what was there in these,—these stories, after all?"
Steve turned on the fair speaker one of those looks peculiar to him, shaking his head as in mild reproach, and affecting surprise at the interruption; to which, Lucy Parker being strong-minded, she paid little heed, and, reassured by the encouraging laughter of the rest, came to the charge once more.
"Come, don't be silly, sir; let us know at once," she exclaimed, with startling well-affected severity. Steve sighed, shook his head, still reproach fully, as though he would plainly say, "This is really too bad."
"Do you mean to speak, Mr. Lidyard, do you intend to answer my question? " demands the imperious young beauty, to which, entre nous, Steve is a slave. Steve nods assent.
"Did you ever hear of ghouls?" asks Steve, in a deep tragedy whisper.
"O!" ejaculated the ladies.
"Of vampires?" proceeds Steve, improving his opportunity.
"Gracious! Goodness!"
This time the ejaculations go as in "a horror skilfully moved."
"Of anthropophagi?" proceeds the bearded narrator.
"Of what, sir?"
This question imperiously, fiercely put, in fact.
"Of an-thro-po-pha-gi," pronouncing it slowly. Under any circumstances it is not a nice word, and perhaps the slower the better. Lucy Parker, resuming the narrative form, nodded her head at each syllable, as though she meant to master it thoroughly.
"An-thro-pop-poff—pooh! what?"
"Men who eat one another, whose heads do grow beneath their shoulders, who"
"Whatever can he be talking about?" said Rosy Parker, Lucy's pretty giggling sister.
"Hadn't you better let me proceed?" put in Steve.
"Well,—hem, —yes; proceed, move on."
"With all my heart. Well, one morning with my party,—we had bivouacked for the night under the shelter of some crags,—I found myself and comrades waking up in the chill morning air; but we were soon astir and warm with motion once more, and I really admired the place of our retreat: some over hanging rocks completely sheltering us from the dews, which are very copious, and in other respects the spot was very eligible—well, we awoke"
"Famished, no doubt."
"Hungry, if you please, not famished! No, we had in our haversacks some cold fowl, bread, and so on, and each one had his flask of wine or brandy, as the case might be: in fact, we had provided for a couple of days at least; leaving it to chance to renew our supplies when necessity should urge us to forage for them.
"I must tell you that we had travelled, with our rifles, revolvers, ammunition, haver sacks, and so on, through a country which, the more we ascended, seemed to consist of nothing but huge boulders, all presenting an aspect of grim and sterile desolation inexpressibly dismal to contemplate. Vast masses of fractured rocks, a very Arabia Petrea of a region; rugged ravines, and as difficult as dangerous to clamber through and over; while below us, far away now, we could distinctly behold the fair 'greeneries' fringing the lower slopes of the mountain, or, rather, mountains; for the chain seemed to run on in endless links, —colossal, rugged, with a touch of the horribly sublime about it.
"We beheld then—what, as clearly we had not remarked on the preceding evening,—that this was the way (entrance it could scarcely be called) into the shunned valley I have just mentioned, and, looking downward now, on the opposite side found all 'beautiful exceeding'