“Well dun, Balaam! That’s a challenge, at ony rayte,” said Adam, “an’ ah weean’t refuse it. Ah nivver was freetened o’ nowt bud the divvil, an’ noo, thenk the Lord, ah deean’t care a button for ’im. Nut ’at ah think it is ’im. It’s sum Tom Feeal, ah fancy, at’s deein’ it for a joak; bud he hez neea business te flay fooaks oot o’ the’r wits, an’ ah’ll see whea it is.”
He opened the gate, and, nothing loth, Balaam boldly trotted over the grass, and again the apparition showed itself, just as it had appeared to Jake Olliver several nights ago.
“Woy,” said Adam to his reckless steed, and the ghost, observing the daring intruder, stretched out its hands in menace, and advanced until it stood beneath the arch, on the spot it usually selected for its subterranean evanishment. Here another woeful, wailing shriek arose; Adam for the first time felt an odd tingling sensation, and a sort of creepy-crawly feeling that would be difficult to analyse. The ass, however, showed not the least surprise, so Adam stood up again in his stirrups, though he was “a goodish bit dumfoonder’d,” as he afterwards confessed, and said in a loud voice,—
“Jesus the neeame ’igh ower all,
I’ hell or ’arth or sky;
Aingels an’ men afoore it fall,
An’ divvils fear an’ fly!”
Hereupon the ghost itself was “a goodish bit dumfoonder’d” too; however, the last act of the drama was accomplished as usual, for instantly a pale blue flash surrounded the figure, which sank, at once among the briars and brambles that grew in unchecked profusion on that uncanny ground.
“Cum oop! Balaam,” said the daring knight of the slashing-knife, and that unflinching steed, worthy to rank henceforth with Rosinante, Bucephalus, the war-horse of the Roman Curtius, and other equine heroes, trotted under the broken arch! Adam’s observant eye had noticed that as the figure sank the brambles bent and waved to and fro, as if set in motion by some living thing. He was not greatly learned in ghost lore, still he had the idea that a real, genuine ghost, with no nonsense about it, ought to have gone through the briars with no more commotion than the moonbeams made.