"Peter," said Simon, quietly, "I wouldn't be too sure o' that. I wouldn't go a-nigh the place, myself; once is enough for me."
"Simon," said I, "what do you mean by 'once'?"
Now when I asked him this, Simon breathed hard, and shuffled uneasily in his chair.
"I mean, Peter, as I've heerd un," he replied slowly.
"Heard him!" I repeated incredulously; "you? Are you sure?"
"Sure as death, Peter. I've heerd un a-shriekin' and a-groanin' to 'isself, same as Gaffer 'as, and lots of others. Why, Lord bless 'ee! theer be scarce a man in these parts but 'as 'eerd um one time or another."
"Ay—I've 'eerd un, and seen un tu!" croaked the Ancient excitedly. "A gert, tall think 'e be, wi' a 'orn on 'is 'ead, and likewise a tail; some might ha' thought 't was the Wanderin' Man o' the Roads as I found 'angin' on t' stapil—some on 'em du, but I knowed better—I knowed 't were Old Nick 'isself, all flame, and brimstone, an' wi' a babby under 'is arm!"
"A baby?" I repeated.
"A babby as ever was," nodded the Ancient.
"And you say you have heard it too, Simon?" said I.