"The clouds blow up against the wind. There'll be thunder, Witherlee," said Wayne, and would have passed on.
"Well, there's one gooid thing 'ull come on 't, ony way," answered the Sexton. "Th' Lean Man o' Wildwater is like to get wet to th' bone afore he wins across th' moor. An' ye can niver tell but what a wetting may tak a man off—I've knawn mony a——"
Wayne swung his horse round sharply. "The Lean Man! Hast seen him, then?" he cried.
"Not ten minutes agone. He crossed up aboon there at a gooidish trot."
"What, by the moor-track?"
"Nay, his face war set for th' Ling Crag road; he war hurrying, an' wanted better foot-hold for his horse, I reckon, nor th' peat 'ud gi'e him."
Mistress Wayne was at the wall-side now. "Ned, thou'lt not ride after him?" she pleaded. "'Tis Nell's wedding-day to-morrow—she'll think it a drear omen."
But Wayne was already gathering the reins more firmly into his hand. "Nell will want a wedding-gift, little bairn—and, by the Red Heart, I'll bring her one of the choicest.—Sexton, shall I overtake him before he gets within hail of Wildwater?"
"Wi' that mare's belly betwixt your legs, Maister, ye'd catch him six times ower."
Wayne stopped for no more, but touched the mare once with his heels and swung up the field and round the bend of the Ling Crag road. The Sexton looked after him and nodded soberly; and it was strange to see his old eyes brighten, as if at the grave-edge he were turning back to see this one last fight.