We leave the conscience-stricken victim whilst we relate the result of
Robin's watch-night at the mill.
He lay awake until midnight, but there was no disturbance; nothing was
heard but the plash of the mill-stream, and the dripping ooze from the
rocks. His old enemies, no doubt, were intimidated, and he was about
commencing a snug nap on the idea--when, lo! there came a great rush of
wind. He heard it booming on from a vast distance, until it seemed to
sweep over the building in one wide resistless torrent that might have
levelled the stoutest edifice;--yet was the mill unharmed by the attack.
Then came shrieks and yells, mingled with the most horrid imprecations.
Swift as thought, there rushed upon him a prodigious company of cats,
bats, and all manner of hideous things, that scratched and pinched him,
as he afterwards declared, until his flesh verily "reeked" again.
Maddened by the torment, he began to lay about him lustily with a long
whittle which he carried for domestic purposes. They gave back at so
unexpected a reception. Taking courage thereby, Robin followed, and they
fled, helter-skelter, like a routed army.
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