The Broad Highway

"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."