Turning, they beheld a sight that caused their hair to stand on end, “the marrow to congeal in their bones,” as Souter afterward explained the sensation which came over him. Coming toward them was a score or more of hideous apparitions with fire blazing from their eyes and their horribly grinning mouths, and groaning and moaning like lost souls. With a mortal cry of terror, the frightened couple sped on wings of fear back to the friendly light of the kitchen, the ghostly figures darting after them with diabolical bursts of laughter. As they slammed the door of the house behind them their pursuers stopped and quickly blew out their Jack-o’-Lanterns and then threw them to one side.
“I didna ken mortal mon could e’er run so fast,” snickered Poosie Nancy to the others as they noiselessly entered the kitchen in time to hear the wonderful tale of Souter’s hairbreadth escape from the witches.
Another hour of mirth and jollity, of dance and song soon sped around. Souter and Molly were still the center of an admiring group, for they had seen the witches with their own eyes, and that distinction was theirs alone that night. Suddenly the old clock struck twelve, then began a merry scrambling for bonnets and plaids. Having donned them, they noisily crowded around their hostesses, who were lined up against the wall, waiting ceremoniously to be thanked for their hospitality and to bid their parting guests godspeed. As the darts of homely wit and repartee flew back and forth among them, causing the lads to burst into uproarious laughter or to grin in awkward bashfulness, and the lassies to turn their heads away blushingly or to toss their curls coquettishly, the door burst in suddenly, and Tam O’Shanter staggered to the center of the floor, pale, wild-eyed, and disheveled.
“Tam O’Shanter!” they cried, gazing at him in startled amazement. Souter quickly reached his old cronie’s side.
“What’s the matter, mon? hae ye seen a ghost?” he asked concernedly.
“Aye, worse than that, much worse,” hoarsely replied Tam, wiping the sweat from off his forehead with a trembling hand.
“What’s happened?” cried old Bess fearfully.
“Calm yoursel’ an’ tell us, Tam,” said Souter soothingly. They brought him a chair, for he trembled like an aspen leaf. Throwing himself into it, he gazed about him fearfully, the while struggling to regain his breath.
“Well,’tis this way, Souter,” he began presently in a husky whisper. “I left the Arms Inn about an hour ago or thereabouts an’ started for hame, for ’tis a long ride to Carrick, ye ken, an’ a most uncanny ride e’en in the daylight.”