‘Well, one night he vexed his young cousin beyond bearin’—what wi’ blackguardin’ his father an’ his mother, an’ wi’ one thing an’ another—an’ sudden the boy leaps up—mevvies he was a little above hissel’ wi’ liquor that evenin’—an’ he bangs wiv his fist on the table, an’ he cries, “Look here, Cousin Tom, I’ll stand it no longer, an’ to prove I’m no coward, I’ll challenge ye to ride to the big Black Stone on Glowrorum Fell an’ back across the Moor this very night.”
‘“Done wi’ ye, lad, done wi’ ye!” shouts the Squire, bangin’ wiv his fist in his turn, “an’ I’ll tell ye what the stakes shall be. If I win, you chuck the Jesu-yte business an’ come an’ live wi’ me, an’ if you win, you can take your pick o’ the horses i’ my stable. Agreed?”
‘“Ay!” shouted the boy recklessly; “done wi’ ye.”
‘Fifteen minutes after this the two o’ them starts off with a wild hallo up the brae side, an’ so across the Moor, the Squire “yoickin’” an’ “tally-hooin’” as he went.
‘The Moor was mevvies aboot two miles across—an’ a tarr’ble bad place for hard gallopin’, for there was a stone wall or two i’ the middle o’t, bogs to the left hand, an’ some old workin’s—pit-shafts or the like—to the right.
‘So right across Towlerhirst Moor they galloped—hell-to-leather—the Squire to the right an’ the boy to the left.
‘Tom Brewis, the old herd up at Windyneuk, happened to be passin’ along the sheep-track that leads by the Moor edge that night, an’ hearin’ the sound ov a horse gallopin’, an’ a lively hollerin’ as tho’ to a pack o’ hounds, he comes across a bit to find oot what it might be.
‘It was a dampish, daggyish sort o’ night, but at times there was a drift o’ moonlight, an’ in one o’ thae glimpses he caught a sight ov a dark figure on horseback, aboot two hundred yards from him, tryin’ to jump a big black horse across one o’ thae open shafts. “You won’t, won’t you? Then d—— ye, ye —— black de’il, ye shall!” an’ clappin’ his spurs deep into his sides, an’ layin’ his huntin’ crop aboot his ears, he forced him some paces backward an’ sent him at it again.
‘It was a big black stallion he was ridin’—a fiery-tempered brute, a proper match for the Squire—an’ up he reared on end, fightin’ him, shriekin’ wi’ pain an’ rage; but he couldn’t get shot ov his rider, so wiv a sudden bound he starts forward an’ tries to clear the shaft wiv one great leap.
‘Just at that moment the moonlight faded, an’ Tom Brewis couldn’t tell exactly what happened, but he saw a dark mass leapin’, he heard a rattle o’ stones, then a heavy thud deep down somewhere, a sort o’ splash, an’ aal was still.