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He experienced the uncanny feeling that a ghost, the ghost that haunted Quill's Window, standing guard over the mound, had cried out under the pain inflicted by that profane match. Even as he turned to search the blazing, sunlit rock with apprehensive eyes, a voice, shrill with anger, flung these words at him: "What are you doing up here?"
I've a little horn convaniency here, that holds half-a-pint, nice measure." I don't imagine that our worthy friend participated in Quill's admiration of the "convaniency," for he added, in a dry tone: "Ye may as weel tak your liquor frae a glass, like a Christian, as stick your nose in a coo's horn."
He decided that one day soon he would disregard that sign on the gate, and climb up to the strange burial place of Edward Crown and Alix the Second. He had tested his increasing strength and endurance by rowing up the river with Rosabel for a fair view of the hole in the face of the rock Quill's Window.
Further progress was checked, not so much by lack of desire to go to the top, but by an involuntary glance over his shoulder. He was not more than ten feet above the trail, but the trail was shockingly narrow and uneven. So down he came, quite thrilled by his discovery, to lean against the rock and laugh scornfully over the silly tales about Quill's Window and its eerie impregnability.
Straight ahead lay the towering, invisible rock, a quarter of a mile away. He descended the ridge slope, swung tirelessly across the swales and mounds in the little valley, and then bent his back to the climb up the steep incline to Quill's Window. Picking his way through a fringe of trees, he came to the tortuous path that led to the crest of the great rock.
She even pictured him as rich and powerful, possessed of everything except the one great boon which she alone could give him, a daughter's love. And she would point to the top of Quill's Window and tell him that he must first look there for forgiveness, under the rocks where his broken-hearted victim slept. The truth stunned her.
"There's something positively forbidding about it. Gives you the willies. How did it come by the name you called it a while ago?" "Quill's Window? Goes back to the days of the Indians. Long before the time of Tecumseh or The Prophet. They used to range up and down this river more than a hundred years ago.
Anybody could climb up there! All that one needed was a stout heart and a good pair of arms. Closer inspection convinced him that these niches were of comparatively recent origin, certainly they were not of Quill's time. David Windom? Had that adventurous lad hewn this ladder to the cave long before the beautiful Alix the First came to complete the romance of his dreams?
The intercom speaker squeaked once before Captain Quill's voice came over it. "Mister Gabriel?" "Yes, sir?" said Mike without turning around. There were no eyes in the private quarters of the officers and crew. "How is Mister Mellon?"
He was right in surmising that this was the support from which Quill's rope or vine ladder was suspended a hundred years ago. Nearby were two heavy iron rings attached to standards sunk firmly into the rock, a modern improvement on the hermit's crude device. Turning back, he approached the heap of boulders that covered the grave of Edward and Alix Crown.
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