By this time Capes’ hair had bleached nearly white, and his skin had become a skin of red copper shot with gold. '—'Oh! yes we are,' says he. ‘You would like? And do you imagine that I will tell you?’ ‘Won’t you?’ ‘No, a thousand times. Curses light on the horse!" he added, seizing the bridle of his steed, who continued snorting and shivering, as if still under the influence of some unaccountable alarm; "what can ail him?" "I know what ails him, your honour," rejoined the groom, riding up as he spoke; "he's seen somethin' not o' this world.
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