The Broad Highway

"Is it, Ancient?"

"Ah! that it be--that it be," he cried, his eyes brightening,

"an' your thumb all bandaged tu."

"Why, so it is, Ancient."

"An'--Peter--!" The pinch of snuff fell, and made a little brown

cloud on the snow of his smock-frock as he rose, trembling, and

leaned towards me, across the table.

"Well, Ancient?"

"Your throat--!"

"Yes--what of it?"

"It--be all marked--scratched it be--tore, as if--as if--claws

'ad been at it, Peter, long--sharp claws!"

"Is it, Ancient?"

"Peter--oh, Peter!" said he, with a sudden quaver in his voice,

"who was it--what was it, Peter?" and he laid a beseeching hand

upon mine. "Peter!" His voice had sunk almost to a whisper, and

the hand plucked tremulously at my sleeve, while in the wrinkled

old face was, a, look of pitiful entreaty. "Oh, Peter! oh,

lad! 'twere Old Nick as done it--'twere the devil as done it,

weren't it--? oh! say 'twere the devil, Peter." And, seeing

that hoary head all a-twitch with eagerness as he waited my

answer, how could I do other than nod?

"Yes, it was the devil, Ancient." The old man subsided into his

chair; embracing himself exultantly.

"I knowed it! I knowed it!" he quavered. "'Twere the devil

flyin' off wi' Peter,' says I, an' they fules laughed at me,

Peter, ay, laughed at me they did, but they won't laugh at the

old man no more--not they; old I be, but they won't laugh at me

no more, not when they see your face an' I tell 'em." Here he

paused to fumble for his snuff-box, and, opening it, held it

towards me.

"Tak' a pinch wi' me, Peter."

"No, thank you, Ancient."

"Come, 'twould be a wonnerful thing to tell as I'd took snuff

out o' my very own box wi' a man as 'ad fou't wi' the devil

--come--tak' a pinch, Peter," he pleaded. Whereupon, to please

him, I did so, and immediately fell most violently a-sneezing.

"And," pursued the old man when the paroxysm was over, "did ye

see 'is 'orns, Peter, an' 'is--"

"Why, no, Ancient; you see, he happened to be wearing a

bell-crowned hat and a long coat."

"A 'at an' coat!" said the old man in a disappointed tone--"a

'at, Peter?"

"Yes," I nodded.

"To be sure, the Scripters say as 'e goeth up an' down like a

ravening lion seekin' whom 'e may devour."