The Broad Highway - Page 133/374

"Jarge," said he, "I'm thinkin' ye'd better tak' Job back to

strike for ye again if you'm goin' to mend t' owd screen."

"What d'ye mean?" growled Black George.

"Because," continued the old man, gathering a pinch of snuff with

great deliberation, "because, Jarge, the young feller as beat ye

at the throwin'--'im as was to 'ave worked for ye at 'is own

price--be dead."

"What!" cried Black George, starting.

"Dead!" nodded the old man, "a corp' 'e be--eh! such a fine,

promisin' young chap, an' now--a corp'." Here the Ancient nodded

solemnly again, three times, and inhaled his pinch of snuff with

great apparent zest and enjoyment.

"Why--" began the amazed George, "what--" and broke off to stare,

open-mouthed.

"Last night, as ever was," continued the old man, "'e went down

to th' 'aunted cottage--'t weren't no manner o' use tryin' to

turn 'im, no, not if I'd gone down to 'im on my marrer-bones--'e

were that set on it; so off he goes, 'bout sundown, to sleep in

th' 'aunted cottage--I knows, Jarge, 'cause I follered un, an'

seen for myself; so now I'm a-goin' down to find 'is corp'--"

He had reached thus far, when his eye, accustomed to the shadows,

chancing to meet mine, he uttered a gasp, and stood staring at me

with dropped jaw.

"Peter!" he stammered at last. "Peter--be that you, Peter?"

"To be sure it is," said I.

"Bean't ye--dead, then?"

"I never felt more full of life."

"But ye slep' in th' 'aunted cottage last night."

"Yes."

"But--but--the ghost, Peter?"

"Is a wandering Scotsman."

"Why then I can't go down and find ye corp' arter all?"

"I fear not, Ancient."

The old man slowly closed his snuff-box, shaking his head as he

did so.

"Ah, well! I won't blame ye, Peter," said he magnanunously, "it

bean't your fault, lad, no--but what's come to the ghost!"

"The ghost," I answered, "is nothing more dreadful than a

wandering Scotsman!"

"Scotsman!" exclaimed the Ancient sharply. "Scotsman!"

"Yes, Ancient."

"You'm mazed, Peter--ah! mazed ye be! What, aren't I heerd un

moanin' an' groanin' to 'isself--ah! an' twitterin' to?"

"As to that," said I, "those shrieks and howls he made with his

bagpipe, very easy for a skilled player such as he."