ALEXANDER WILSON. lxxXix 



strangers who had disappeared there. One of these lies near the 

 banks of the Red River, and belongs to a person of the name of 



, a man of notoriously bad character, and strongly suspected, 



even by his neighbours, of having committed a foul murder of this 

 kind, which was related to me, with all its minutiae of horrors. As 

 this man's house stands by the roadside, I was induced by motives 

 of curiosity to stop and take a peep of him. On my arrival I found 

 two persons in conversation under the piazza, one of whom informed 

 me that he was the landlord. He was a dark mulatto, rather above 

 the common size, inclining to corpulency, with legs small in pro- 

 portion to his size, and walked lame. His countenance bespoke a 

 soul capable of deeds of darkness. I had not been three minutes 

 in company, when he invited the other man (who I understood was 

 a traveller) and myself to walk back and see his cave, to which I 

 immediately consented. The entrance is in the perpendicular 

 front of a rock, behind the house — has a door, with a lock and 

 key to it, and was crowded with pots of milk, placed near the 

 running stream. The roof and sides of solid rock were wet and 



dropping with water. Desiring to walk before with the lights, 



I followed, with my hand on my pistol, reconnoitring on every side, 

 and listening to his description of its length and extent. After 

 examining this horrible vault for forty or fifty yards, he declined 

 going any further, complaining of a rheumatism ; and I now first 

 perceived that the other person had stayed behind, and that we 

 two were alone together. Confident in my means of self-defence, 

 whatever mischief the devil might suggest to him, I fixed my eye 

 steadily on his, and observed to him, that he could not be ignorant 

 of the reports circulated about the country relative to this cave. 

 ' I suppose,' said I, ' you know what I mean 1 ?' 'Yes, I understand 

 you,' returned he, without appearing the least embarrassed, — ' that 

 I killed somebody, and threw them into this cave. I can tell you 

 the whole beginning of that damned lie,' said he ; and, without 

 moving from the spot, he detailed to me a long story, which would 

 fill half my letter, to little purpose, and which, with other particu- 

 lars, I shall reserve for your amusement when we meet. I asked 

 him why he did not get the cave examined by three or four reput- 

 able neighbours, whose report might rescue his character from the 

 suspicion of having committed so horrid a crime. He acknowledged 

 VOL. I. g 



