Now there was a brave little tailor living about a mile from Greeba, and because he had not too much worldly gear, he made a wager that when the new roof was on, he would not only spend the first night in the church, but also make a pair of breeches there. The wager was taken up eagerly, as they hoped that if the roof was one night up, it would be left on.
So Timothy—that was the name of the little tailor—went to the church on the very first evening after the new roof had been put on. He started just when the shadow was beginning to get grey by the hedges. He took with him cloth, needle and thread, thimble and scissors. He entered the church boldly, lit a couple of big candles, and looked all over the building to see that everything was right. Then he locked the door so that there was no way to get in. He cut out the cloth, and, seating himself cross-legged in the chancel, he put on his thimble and set to work at the breeches. He paid no heed to the darkness of the lonely church at dead of night, but with long thread and needle he bent low over his work, his fingers, moving backwards and forwards rapidly, casting strange, beckoning shadows on the walls. The breeches had got to be finished, or he would lose his wager, so he stitched away as fast as he could, thinking about the good money the people would have to give him.
The wind was beginning to rise, and trees scutched their arms against the windows. The tailor looked cautiously up and down and round about. Nothing strange came in sight and he took courage. Then he threaded his needle and began his work again. He gave another sharp glance around, but saw nothing at all except the glimmer of the place near the candles, and empty, deep darkness away beyond them. So his courage rose high, and he said to himself:
‘It’s all foolishness that’s at the people about the Buggane, for, after all, the like isn’t in.’
But at that very minute the ground heaved under him and rumbling sounds came up from below. The sounds grew louder underneath, and Timothy glanced quickly up. All of a sudden a great big head broke a hole through the pavement just before him, and came slowly rising up through the hole. It was covered with a mane of coarse, black hair; it had eyes like torches, and glittering sharp tusks. And when the head had risen above the pavement, the fiery eyes glared fiercely at Tim; the big, ugly, red mouth opened wide, and a dreadful voice said:
‘Thou rascal, what business hast thou here?’
Tim paid no heed, but worked harder still, for he knew he had no time to lose.
‘Dost thou see this big head of mine?’ yelled the Buggane.
‘I see, I see!’ replied Tim, mockingly.
Up came a big broad pair of shoulders, then a thick arm shot out and a great fist shook in the Tailor’s face.