The tradition attached to this spot had nothing but a misty and
spectral outline. It was indefinite in the date, uncertain as to
persons, mysterious as to the event,--just such a tradition as to
whet the edge of one's curiosity and to leave it hopeless of
gratification. I may relate it in a few words.
Once upon a time, somewhere between one and two hundred years ago,
there was a man by the name of Talbot, a kinsman of Lord Baltimore,
who had committed some crime, for which he fled and became an outlaw
and was pursued by the authorities of the Province. To escape these,
he took refuge in the wilderness on the Susquehanna, where he
found this cave, and used it for concealment and defence for some
time,--how long, the tradition does not say. This region was then
inhabited by a fierce tribe of Indians, who are described on Captain John
Smith's map as the "Sasquesahannocks," and who were friendly to the
outlaw and supplied him with provisions. To these details was added
another, which threw an additional interest over the story,--that
Talbot had a pair of beautiful English hawks, such as were most
prized in the sport of falconry, and that these were the companions
of his exile, and were trained by him to pursue and strike the wild
duck that abounded, then as now, on this part of the river; and he
thus found amusement to beguile his solitude, as well as sustenance
in a luxurious article of food, which is yet the pride of gastronomic
science, and the envy of _bons vivants_ throughout this continent.
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