“Yes, sir, I do and I doan’t.”
“No one trapping foxes, I hope?”
“No, sir, leastwise, not this side the country,” said Andrew, walking up to him.
“You’ve bad news of some sort, I fear.”
“No tedn that nither, sir. Et’s like thes—I was coming down-along round the foot of the Hootin’ Cairn, soon after midnight, when summat white crossed the ground afore me.”
“What was it?” said Sir Bevil with a smile, the eeriness of the place and the superstitious fear of the Earthstopper occurring to him.
“Thet’s just the point, sir.”
“Was it twenty paces ahead of you?”
“Lor’ bless your life, sir, ’twas touchin’, under my feet, so to spaake. ’Twas a darkish night, for all the moon was nearly full, but the thing showed up as white as a ghost, and the sight of un gov me a bra’ turn, the more so being where I were.”
“Is that all you have to say?—I see the hounds are moving off.”