Soon a bright star hung on the heights above
Sawley. Increasing in splendour, another broke out on the verge of the
horizon, marking the site of the camp near Romald's Moor.
Turning towards the south-west, and looking to the right, beyond the
chain of successive heights that form the vale of Todmorden, he beheld a
dim spark in the distance, from the summit of Hades Hill, scarcely
penetrating the mist which hung like a dense cloud in that direction;
this place and Thieveley Pike forming the connecting-links between
Pendle Hill and Buckton Castle.
The terrified attendants knew too well the results which would follow
this unaccountable and irreparable mistake. The whole country would be
in commotion. Hordes of zealous and fanatic idlers and malcontents would
repair to the appointed rendezvous, and this premature, and perhaps
fatal movement, would be attributed to their carelessness. Paslew, not
over-nice in discriminating their several deserts, would doubtless
subject them to immediate and condign punishment.
These were thoughts common to each, unquestionable and conclusive; but
what answer to give, or what excuse to make, was far from being decided
upon with the same degree of certainty.
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