As soon as they had gained the higher part of the cave, Meg Merrilies began rustling about among the dried branches, murmuring and singing, to cover the noise made by the entrance of the three men who followed her. From the deep dark where they stood, they could see Dirk Hatteraick at the farther end of the cave, behind a fire which he was continually building up by throwing into it bits of dried sticks. Hatteraick was of powerful build, and his features were beyond description savage and rugged. A cutlass hung by his side, and into his belt he had thrust, ready to his hand at a moment's notice, two pairs of pistols. Truly the capture of Dirk Hatteraick was no light adventure, and Bertram, having been warned by Dandie in a cautious whisper of Hazlewood's arrival, thought within himself that they would be none the worse of the third who had come so opportunely to their assistance.
"Here, beldam--deyvil's kind," cried Hatteraick in his harshest voice, "have you brought me the brandy and news of my people?"
"Here is the flask for you," answered Meg, passing it to him; "but as for your crew, they are all cut down and scattered by the redcoats!"
"Storm and wetter, ye hag," he cried, "ye bring ill news. This coast is fatal to me! And what of Glossin?"
"Ye missed your stroke there," she said; "ye have nothing to expect from him!"
"Hagel," cried the ruffian, "if only I had him by the throat! He has led me to perdition--men lost, boat lost, credit lost. I dare never show my face in Flushing again!"
"_You will never need!_" croaked the gipsy.
Meg's sombre prophecy startled Hatteraick. He looked up suddenly.
"What is that you say, witch? And what are you doing there?" he cried. Meg dropped a firebrand steeped in spirit upon some loose flax. Instantly a tall column of brilliant wavering light filled the cave.
"Ye will never need to go to Flushing," she said, "because 'The Hour's come and the Man!'"
At the signal, Bertram and Dandie Dinmont, springing over the brushwood, rushed upon Hatteraick. Hazlewood, not knowing the plan of assault, was a moment later. The ruffian instantly understood that he had been betrayed, and the first brunt of his anger fell upon Meg Merrilies, at whose breast he fired a pistol point-blank. She fell with a shriek which was partly the sudden pain of the wound, and partly a shout of triumphant laughter.