[Illustration:  ENTRANCE TO THE CAVE.]

We were careful to keep our candles alight as we followed our guide on the return journey, and kept as close together as we could.  It was nearly dark when we reached the entrance of the cavern again, and our impression was that we had been in another world.  Farther south we explored another and a larger cave, but the vandals had been there and broken off many of the “’tites,” which here were quite perfect.  We had not felt hungry while we were in the cave, but these well-known pangs came on us in force immediately we reached the open air, and we were glad to accept the landlord’s offer to provide for our inward requirements, and followed him home to the inn for tea.  The landlord had told the company at the inn about our long walk, and as walking was more in vogue in those days than at later periods, we became objects of interest at once, and all were anxious to form our acquaintance.

[Illustration:  STUMP CROSS CAVES The Four Fingers.  The “’tites” and “’mites.”]

We learned that what we had noted as the Greenhow Cave was known by the less euphonius name of the “Stump Cross Cavern.”  It appeared that in ancient times a number of crosses were erected to mark the limits of the great Forest of Knaresborough, a royal forest as far back as the twelfth century, strictly preserved for the benefit of the reigning monarch.  It abounded with deer, wild boars, and other beasts of the chase, and was so densely wooded that the Knaresborough people were ordered to clear a passage through it for the wool-carriers from Newcastle to Leeds.  Now we could scarcely see a tree for miles, yet as recently as the year 1775 the forest covered 100,000 acres and embraced twenty-four townships.  Before the Reformation, the boundary cross on the Greenhow side was known as the Craven Cross, for Craven was one of the ancient counties merged in what is called the West Riding.  The Reformers objected to crosses, and knocked it off its pedestal, so that only the stump remained.  Thus it gradually became known as the Stump Cross, and from its proximity the cavern when discovered was christened the Stump Cross Cavern.  We were informed that the lead mines at Greenhow were the oldest in England, and perhaps in the world, and it was locally supposed that the lead used in the building of Solomon’s Temple was brought from here.  Two bars of lead that had been made in the time of the Romans had been found on the moors, and one of these was now to be seen at Ripley Castle in Yorkshire, while the other was in the British Museum.

Eugene Aram, whose story we heard for the first time in the inn, was born at a village a few miles from Greenhow.  The weather had been showery during the afternoon, but we had missed one of the showers, which came on while we were in the cavern.  It was now fine, and the moon shone brightly as we descended the steep hill leading to Pateley Bridge.  We had crossed the River Dibb after leaving Grassington, and now, before crossing the River Nidd at Pateley Bridge, we stayed at the “George Inn,” an old hostelry dating from the year 1664.