Chapter XIII: The Cave of the Crows

Philippe tried several times after that to post a letter. But Tom's eyes were very keen, and he seemed to see everything at once.

Ever since that day, Tom had watched Philippe all the time. But the man acted no differently than before. He whistled a great deal and was pleased with the money that the children brought in.

Still he worked them harder than ever. Often Philippe's legs ached with standing so long. Often his throat was sore with singing.

He knew that he was being punished for his disobedience. He knew that if he ever escaped from this wicked man he would always obey his parents.

Tom often joked with Philippe, and the boy told him stories about the country through which they traveled. But all the while, Tom did not know what plans were shaping in Philippe's head.

One day as they tramped along, Philippe carried a letter in his pocket. The letter was to Papa Pomme. Philippe was planning to post the letter when they reached Charleroi (=shär-le-roi'=), in the evening.

In it he told Papa Pomme everything. But he told him not to worry, that he was well, and also that he was laying a plan to capture the thief.

Part of Philippe's letter read: "I shall try to make him spend Monday night in the Cave of the Crows. That is the big rock between Namur (=nâ-mür'=) and Dinant (=dē-nän'=). Send some one to that place, for if my plan succeeds we shall be there."

The Cave of the Crows is a mysterious rock out on the open road. There is a folk tale connected with it, and part of Philippe's plan was to tell this tale to Tom.

As they walked along, the boy kept thinking over his plan.

"If only I can persuade him to spend Monday night there!" Philippe mused earnestly.

They reached Charleroi, after passing the country of the iron workers.

Philippe found this part of the country different from that around Antwerp and Brussels. To him even the people seemed different. Here he found pine and birch trees and little stone houses.

Most of the people in northern Belgium are blond and large. Here they are dark and smaller and more lively.

Once in Charleroi, Philippe explained to Zelie what he wanted her to do. Zelie agreed to follow out the plan, and Philippe gave her the letter.

Then Philippe started to run down the street.

Zelie cried out to Tom, "Look! Quick! Philippe is running away!"

Tom was after the boy in a second, and Zelie quickly slipped Philippe's letter to Papa Pomme into the mail box.

But poor Philippe had to pay for this trick. Tom locked him up all day and gave him only bread and water.

Yet the boy's heart leaped with joy. Now the letter was off. It only remained for him to persuade Tom to spend the night in the cave.

It was pleasant country through which they were passing. Along the banks of the Sambre (=sän'-br=) River, they saw many women washing clothes. Men on barges waved and called to them. These men seemed a happy lot. Old castles loomed up.

Monday arrived. The three travelers were nearing the Cave of the Crows.

"Have you ever heard the story of the Cave of the Crows, sir?" asked Philippe.

"No," replied Tom. "Tell it to me."

He liked Philippe's stories. The little fellow had entertained him with many.

"They say," began Philippe, "that long, long years ago a wandering poet passed this cave, and there he met a beautiful fairy. He fell in love with her and she with him. They married and lived in the cave together.

"But one day the fairy was called to a gathering in fairyland. The other fairies were angry to learn that she had married a mortal. As a punishment the poor fairy was changed into an ugly black crow with a hoarse, terrible voice.

"She returned to the cave to her poet and found him also changed into a crow. But this did not spoil their love for each other. They lived happily in the cave for years and years, and they had many children. There are thousands of black crows flying about the cave, shrieking and cawing. These are the descendants of the poet and the poor fairy."

Tom shuddered.

"A very good place from which to keep away!" he laughed.

"Oh, no," replied Philippe. "On the contrary, I should like to go there. I should like to go," he added mysteriously, "because it is said that whoever spends a night in the cave will find a bag of gold in the morning."

Tom's eyes sparkled. Philippe's heart beat quickly.

He continued, "Yes, it is believed that robbers once buried a bag of gold in the cave. Anyone who is brave enough to spend a night there may have it."

Tom smiled, but looked doubtful.

"Let us go there, sir," suggested Philippe. "In the morning you shall find that bag of gold."

Tom thought awhile but did not reply. The boy nearly cried out in eagerness. Oh, if only the man would consent to do this thing!

The letter he had written to his father would reach Brussels today. His father would send some one to the cave tonight. Then he and Zelie would be free, and Tom captured.

What had Papa Pomme said? Oh, yes! The thief must go to prison!

Suddenly Tom spoke. "No," he said. "I think we shall move on. It might be dangerous to stay in that cave."

"What!" cried Philippe. "Are you afraid of the crying of crows?"

"No," replied the man, "It is not that. I prefer to spend my nights in cities."

Philippe's heart sank.

"But, sir," he said, "would you let such a chance of gaining wealth escape you? They say that the bag of gold is very large indeed!"

"Then why is it that no one has ever found it before?" asked Tom suspiciously.

"Because," answered Philippe, "there is no one with courage enough. One must be brave to spend a night in such a cold, dark place with howling birds all about. That requires courage like yours, sir!"

The man was pleased with the boy's flattery.

"Do you really think that the bag of gold is worth the trouble?" he asked.

"Worth it!" exclaimed Philippe. "Why, sir, it will make you rich!"

Now, Tom, like most wicked men, was ignorant. He had never gone to school and he could not even read. Though he was sharp and quick, he had no learning and he was not very shrewd. He believed the boy's story.

Philippe had seemed to know a great deal about the country. The lad had told many true stories. He had shown his knowledge on any number of occasions. Besides, Tom was so greedy that he could not bear to let a chance like this go by.

Of course, Tom knew that this was only a belief. But then, there had been robbers everywhere at one time, and they might easily have buried their treasure in this mysterious cave.

"Very well," he said, "we shall spend the night in the Cave of the Crows!"