‘Chilpo gets the bag for that, Isaac no daurin’ to prosecute him, for he kenned ower muckle. But he disna leave the toon; just hangs aboot, doggin’ Isaac’s footsteps, an’ cussin’ to hissel’ i’ his queer, ootlandish way o’ talk. “Him coward,” he would mutter, “but Chilpo brave man. He no take no blowee. Chilpo hang Isaac—hang himselfee—no matter—Chilpo fear nozzin’,” an’ he would gnash wi’ his white teeth savagely like a mad dog as he saw Isaac pass along the street.
‘His heart was just as black as his sweaty, black phiznommy, an’ he properly haunted Isaac till he fair plagued him to death.
‘One Sabbath, when there was a great function on at Isaac’s chapel, he actually follows him in, an’ sat sneerin’ an’ mimickin’ an’ makin’ game o’ Isaac as he prayed an’ groaned, an’ confessed to bein’ a muckle great sinner i’ the past, till Isaac was near mad wi’ rage an’ terror. He tried to pray, but the words wouldn’t come richt, an’ the sweat poured aff his brow, they said, till folk thought he was about to hae a fit or seizure o’ some sort.
‘At the finish he gies it up, an’, staggerin’ on to his feet, points i’ a frenzied sort o’ way to Chilpo sittin’ there below him, an’ cries oot loud: “It’s the deil, it’s the deil! Drive him awa; drive him oot o’ the holy place! I tell ye he’s sin hissel’. See the sooty face on him!”
‘“Ugh! Black Isaac, him coward!” shouts Chilpo, standin’ up on his seat. “Him sky-pilot nowee, no goodee any more. Once a timee diffelent; good pilate once, grand pilate with Chilpo; men’s pilate, women’s pilates, temple’s pilates, all sorts pilates. Oh yez; huzza! Dam good timee then; ping-pang, click-click, plenty moneys, plenty grogs, plenty funee. O yez; Chilpo, he knowee.” The little heathen chuckled to himself, makin’ uncanny motions wi’ his hands o’ throat-cuttin’ an’ liquor-drinkin’ an’ fillin’ his pockets wi’ siller.
‘“Him hipple-clite nowee,” continued Chilpo, shoutin’ aloud to all the chapel-folks who hadn’t recovered theirsels from their amazement; “dam hipple-clite! Why, him worship the debbil like Chilpo former timee. Him no use for prayee; him dam-ee, curs-ee; him Church’s pilate, women’s pilate, then burnee together. Oh yes, him lemember allight; askee him,” an’ wi’ that he points his finger at Isaac, whose face was workin’ in a frightful fashion, his eyes starin’ this way an’ that, wi’ no meanin’ i’ them, his lips black, an’ his mouth slobberin’; then sudden he starts to run, but catches his foot an’ falls full length doon on the floor an’ drums wi’ his hands amangst the cushions.
‘There was a panic at that; half o’ the women faints dead awa, the bairns scream, and some o’ the men drives Chilpo, still chucklin’ to himself, oot at the door wi’ blows, whilst others attend to Isaac lyin’ wi’ his head covered i’ the dusty cushions an’ his hands hard a-grip o’ the seat-stanchions.
‘They loosens his grasp wi’ difficulty, but lifts him up at the finish wi’ a shockin’ face on him, an’ a senseless tongue that babbled aboot a parrot. Some said it mun ha’ been i’ reference someway to some wicked episode i’ his past life which Chilpo kenned o’ an’ alluded to i’ the chapel. Maybe a parrot had been left the sole survivor after a sack, ye ken, an’ Isaac couldna forget the scene. Anyways, Chilpo, the dam cunnin’ little de’il, kenned o’ the hidden sore i’ Isaac’s mind, an’ laid a cruel finger on ’t wi’ the blackest malice. An’ there was nae doot aboot the outcome o’t, for Isaac was gone clean daft, an’ died not long afterwards i’ the asylum.
‘Weel, they gied him a big buryin’, for his brethren i’ the chapel said they believed he was a true repentant sinner, an’ forbye that he had left a good bit siller amangst them, which would dootless assist them to that conclusion; an’ as there had been some body-snatchin’ lately, they determined to form a small watch committee to keep guard at the graveside for a night or two.
‘Weel, the watch was composed o’ some decent elderly folk, who didn’t trash theirselves ower the job; an’ mevvies the funeral festivities had delayed them a bit, for they didn’t arrive at the graveyard till aboot half-past ten o’ the clock.