"It's no great day this to be travelling beasts," said Dan, as we walked at the tails o' the little herd.
"Ay, but this is just the day for Sandy. Nae fears o' the evil eye wi' the snaw on the road, for there's something clean aboot snaw, and auld wives are at their firesides, wi' their ill wishes and evil eyes."
"You will ken the Red Laird's deid and buried, Sandy?"
For a wee while after Dan's question we three walked in silence, and then the drover turned his wild face to us.
"We watched the devil coming for him yon night; we watched his coming, ay, away far out on the sea, the black stallions stretched to the gallop like racing hounds, and the hoofs o' them striking white fire frae the water, and the flames o' hell curling and twisting round the wheels o' his chariot. Ay, we watched oor lane, the dogs and me, and his whip was forked lightning, and his voice drooned the roar o' the gale."
I felt a grue slither through me when the man stopped, for his harsh voice intoned his words like some dreadful chant.
"Ye would be late out that night," said Dan, and again we were silent till the drover spoke, and the thought came to me that he arranged all his words in his mind, and then loosed his tongue to them.
"They were round us, that night, evil spirits and evil beasts, and they would be lifting the thatch from the roof; and we went out, the dogs and me, and a' the great rocks on the hillside would be jumbling and jarring thegether, for all the evil ones were loose from the pit, and tumbling the hills, and setting them straight, and the blue lowes were rissling on the hill-tops. But I would be holding my steel in my hand, and we sat and watched, the dogs and me."
"Was it the skein-dubh you would be holding?"
"It would not be the black knife, Dan McBride; it would just be this."