The Hut of the Old Hag

I saw that the axe had been taken through a small hole made in one of the rotten boards. The hut was a regular murder trap and was guarded all around. A garata lay on the roof ready to entangle me with his noose if I should escape the dagger of the old hag. In front the way was guarded by, I know not how many watchers, and at the back was a row of desperate men. Beyond the shanty was a wreck, a massive timber and moving forms. Still silence there. Not a sound. These old wretches could die game anyhow. They were trying to head me off for life. With the instant of right-hand

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