“Ye’ll hear in a moment,” answered Tammie, “a’ that I ken o’ the matter. Ye see—as I asked ye before—yon trees on the hill-head to the eastward; just below yon black cloud yonder?”
“Preceesely,” said I—“I see them well enough.”
“Weel, after a’ thochts of finding her were gi’en up, and it was fairly concluded, that it was the auld gudeman that had come and chappit her out, she was fund in a pond among yon trees, floating on her back, wi’ her Sunday’s claes on!!”
“Drowned?” said I to him.
“Drowned—and as stiff as a deal board,” answered Tammie. “But when she was drowned—or how she came to be drowned—or who it was drowned her—has never been found out to this blessed moment.”
“Maybe,” said I, lending in my word—“maybe she had grown demented, and thrown herself in i’ the dark.”
“Or maybe,” said Tammie, “the de’il flew away wi’ her in a flash o’ fire; and, soosing her down frae the lift, she landit in that hole, where she was fund floating. But—wo!—wo!” cried he to his horse, coming across its side with his whip—“We maun be canny; for this brig has a sharp turn, (it was the Cow Brig, ye know,) and many a one, both horse and man, have got their necks broken, by not being wary enough of that corner.”
This made me a thought timorous, having the bit laddie Benjie fast asleep in my arms; and as I saw that Tammie’s horse was a wee fidgety; and glad, I dare say, poor thing, to find itself so near home. We heard the water, far down below, roaring and hushing over the rocks, and thro’ among the Duke’s woods—big, thick, black trees, that threw their branches, like giant’s arms, half across the Esk, making all below as gloomy as midnight; while over the tops of them, high, high aboon, the bonnie wee starries were twink-twinkling far amid the blue. But there was no end to Tammie’s tongue.
“Weel,” said he, “speaking o’ the brig, I’ll tell you a gude story about that. Auld Jamie Bowie, the potato merchant, that lived at the Gate-end, had a horse and cart that met wi’ an accident just at the turn o’ the corner yonder; and up cam a chield sair forfaughten, and a’ out of breath, to Jamie’s door, crying like the prophet Jeremiah to the auld Jews, ‘Rin, rin away
doun to the Cow Brig; for your cart’s dung to shivers, and the driver’s killed, as weel as the horse!’