II.

Te Aroha News, Volume V, Issue 235, 31 December 1887, Page 2

11.

THE SNATCHERS. Just beyond a corner of the 'ruined walla where ivy, covering an old buttress, formed a shelter from the frosty wind, Reuben took up his quarters the night after Little Ben was buried. Elias Horston came of an old stock who had lived in Killock since the Scotch settlement of the place in King James' time, and many generations of them lay beneath the grassy sod that was upturned that day. , The spot was full in view from Reuben's j corner, nearly opposite, though at some ! little distance from, the low-browed arch which led into the Luton vault. Reuben's youngest daughter, Joan, had clung about him greatly when he went out ! that night, fretting at his going, and making him repeat his promise that this should be the last time he would undertake such work. Corps of yeomanry existed in Ulster then, and Keuben belonged to one. Consequently ho possessed a specimen of the old flint musket, known by .the familiar name of ' Brown Bess.' With a look of apprehension Joan had watched him cleaning and brightening up 'Brown Bess's' clumsy form. • Put ye'ro big coat on ye, father,' she said, reaching down, from a peg it hung on, a long frieze garment, but he would not have it. He buckled round him a thick pea jacket. • Say a man has to run for it, Joan,' he said, 'he'll go best in this,' then tying over his ears a hareskin cap, and buttoning on his long bx-own leggings, he r©6e to go, bufc Joan detained him, flinging, her arms round his neck and crying, 'Oh, father, dear, what gars ye tak si<}h work upon ? If onyt thing comes on ye what'll' /do ? What'll / do?' 'Go to ye're bed and sleep like a wise lassie,' said he, caressing her j * what scares ye this night more nor ither nights ? ' Then kissing both his girls, and thinking how like Joan's ways were to her dead mother's, he shouldered his ' musket and passed out into the wintry night. A frosty fog filled the air, wholly obscuring the light that tho moon, now at the full, would otherwise have given. • There's a sough in the air though,' thought Reuben, as he plodded along the familiar way that led to the old church, ' an' if abreeze would get up, there might be light yet. ' The wind did begin to rise. Chill and raw it struck, as if into a man's very heart. Reuben, to' whom every foot of the ground was familiar, went round the old walls and the boundary of the graveyai'd several times, and then seeking the friendly shelter of the buttress, he stood his loaded musket down beside him, and took out his pipe and tinder-box to have a smoke. A little way across the graveyard, right opposite to where he stood, was the spot where little Ben had that morning been laid to rest, and on a direct line Avith his posi-' tion, not ten paces off, was the low archway' which led down into the Luton vault below. The wind was getting strong, there was a rift in the fog, and through it the moon appeared large and full, hanging in the murky atmosphere that changed her silvery light to orange. Any relief from the darkness of the fog was welcome, and Reuben as he smoked gazed, round intently on the objects near, as in the gradually increasing light they opened their familiar forms. Some of the graves near were bricked up a little way above the ground, one or two had tall head-stones, a group of old Scotch firs to the left were visible. 1 It's not so bad after all/ thought Reuben, 'if it holds on this way there'll be good light 'till near morning.' Just- then, across the ground white with hoarfrost, a slender t shadow seemed to fall from the archway of the vault. Reuben leaned forward, crushing out his pipe with one hand while the other reached towards the musket. Otherwise he did not stir. Was it one of the long arms of the ivy waved by the rising wind ? Would it show again ? Aye, surely it did, — coming out on all fours under the ivy and then standing straight up. A hgure thin as a skeleton, as black as ink, and apparently wholly unclothed. Now Reuben Armstrong had not come from a long line of Puritanical forefathers without being familiar with the traditional notions as to the perspnal afxpeavance of the great enemy of mankind. He had inherited an ancient copy of the ' Pilgrim's Progress,' in which woodcuts were plentifully used, and among them representations of, Apollyon were not scarce, but never 1 did Reuben think of beholding him, not in' the flesh, for he did not seem to havei.any, but with his own bodily eyes. That he should come out of old Luton 's vault seemed natural enough, for that- all such as old L'ntph had been,' belonged to him', body and soul,- Reuben could not doubt., • t f <; • . ' Awe-strickep and r breathless t he watched him pace along £o the.corner of the ruin that corresponded to fchat'wherehe'njimself stood, when suddenlyhe turned -off inttf the graveyard, and if there had been any; doubt before as to his identity it \yaa then'dispellecU plear in themoonlighKunmistatably,he had norns, and over the wHifcefied ground there 'swished a horrid tail; ,tMbre than thaVhe^as mak«* ing for the,graYe;of Jit3blQ!Be».s 'xuitfi'l' .' ' i( '(An oblivion of duty had come - Jteuben in the horror of the mo-

brought baofc^his tsenaes,"' and stepping forward he placed ' Brown Bess 'in a position to fire. He did not know what effect musketry might take in such a case, but it was clearly right that he should try, and he advanced for the purpose, That instant he was seized from behind, the musket was dashed away, his arms were , pinioned behind, his back, and the suffocating plaster of'- s the ' snatohers ' was pressed closely over his mouth. < Never, in the 50 years of his life, had Reuben felt so near death. Flung down on the ground, his feet were tied together, and he was dragged away by the shoulders. He had just sense enough to be conscious that he could breathe, his mouth only being covered. But what of that? They were dragging him to the fatal sack, and with that thought Reuben became senseless, seeming, as he swooned away, to hear Joan's plaintive cry, * What 11 I do ? What'll / do ?' and to see a gentle face, whether hers or her mother's he could not tell. Reuben never knew* how long he lay there. Tho first sensation he was conscious of was something connected with his feet ; they were being ' united, and there were hands doing something inside his coat ; the ' snatchers ' had found out that he was living, and were about to stab him to the heart. Some moments passed ; the hands were gone, and he still lived. Then came a feeling that he was alone. Cautiously he turned from the way he had been laid with his face to the wall. The moon shone clearly, all was still, and he was nearly frozen. Slowly and with much difficulty, he got up, but by no effort could he release Iris hands, ond that fearful plaster seemed to choke him. Slowly he made his way round to where he had been before. There lay his musket, but he could not lift it. Looking acres to the Horston's burying-place, he thought its aspect was surely changed. Hoarfrots had whitened the new turned sod, even as it had the grass beside ; now some black heap lay there. In Reuben's disabled state it was no easy matter to cross the uneven surface of the old churchyard, and when he reached the grave of little Ben, it was to find that it had been rifled. On either side the scattered earth lay i dark. The coffin, inside which his mother would let no hands lay him but her own, was empty, and the little frame over whose strange contractions so many wise heads had been shaken in vain, was gone.