"I'm sure," said I, pouring out a second cup of tea, "I'm sure I
would sooner you should find my corpse than any one else, and am
sorry to have disappointed you again, but really, Ancient--"
"Oh, it aren't the disapp'intment, Peter--I found one corp', an'
that's enough, I suppose, for an aged man like me--no, it aren't
that--it's findin' ye eatin' your breakfus'--just as if theer 'ad
'adn't been no storm--no, nor yet no devil, wi' 'orns an' a tail,
a-runnin' up an' down in the 'Oller 'ere, an' a-roarin' an'
a-bellerin', as John Pringle said, last night."
"Ah! and what else did John Pringle say?" I inquired, setting
down my cup.
"Why, 'e come into 'The Bull' all wet an' wild-like, an' wi' 'is
two eyes a-stickin' out like gooseberries! 'E comes a-bustin'
into the 'tap'--an' never says a word till 'e's emptied Old
Amos's tankard--that bein' nighest. Then--'By Goles!' says 'e,
lookin' round on us all, 'by Goles! I jest seen the ghost!'
'Ghost!' says all on us, sittin' up, ye may be sure, Peter.
'Ay,' says John, lookin' over 'is shoulder, scared-like, 'seed
un wi' my two eyes, I did, an' what's more, I heerd un tu!'
'Wheer?' says all on us, beginnin' to look over our shoulders
likewise. 'Wheer?' says John, 'wheer should I see un but in that
theer ghashly 'Oller. I see a light, fust of all, a-leapin' an'
a-dancin' about 'mong the trees--ah! an' I 'eerd shouts as was
enough to curdle a man's good blood.' 'Pooh! what's lights?'
says Joel Amos, cockin' 'is eye into 'is empty tankard; 'that
bean't much to frighten a man, no, nor shouts neither.' 'Aren't
it?' says John Pringle, fierce-like; 'what if I tell ye the place
be full o' flamin' fire--what if I tell ye I see the devil
'isself, all smoke, an' sparks, an' brimston' a-floatin' an'
a-flyin', an' draggin' a body through the tops o' the trees?'
'Lord!' says everybody, an' well they might, Peter, an' nobody
says nothin' for a while. 'I wonder,' says Joel Amos at last, 'I
wonder who 'e was a-draggin' through the tops o' the trees--an'
why?' 'That'll be poor Peter bein' took away,' says I, 'I'll go
an' find the poor lad's corp' in the mornin'--an' 'ere I be."
"And you find me not dead, after all your trouble," said I.
"If," said the Ancient, sighing, "if your arms was broke, or your
legs was broke, now--or if your 'air was singed, or your face all
burned an' blackened wi' sulphur, I could ha' took it kinder;
but to find ye a-sittin' eatin' an' drinkin'--it aren't what I
expected of ye, Peter, no." Shaking his head moodily, he took
from his hat his neverfailing snuff-box, but, having extracted a
pinch, paused suddenly in the act of inhaling it, to stare at me
very hard. "But," said he, in a more hopeful tone, "but your
face be all bruised an' swole up, to be sure, Peter."