The men went back with much reluctance; but nothing unusual happened while they were in the pasture, and they loaded a cart and drove with it to the farm. After they finished their day’s work and were passing Merlin’s Crag on their way home in the dusk of evening, they saw streams of brilliant light shining forth from innumerable crevices in the black rocks. They stopped and gazed. “Come,” said John, “let’s go and find out what this is all about. Many’s the time we’ve passed here, and we’ve never seen anything like that before.”
“No,” said Donald, “we’re safer to keep to the highway.”
But John would not be satisfied with that, and he moved toward the lighted crag, and Donald followed. As they drew near they were charmed by the most exquisite fiddling they had ever heard. By searching they found an opening in the rocks something like a rude window, and they looked in and saw a company of fairies engaged in a merry dance. Among the rest was the little old woman who had spoken to them on the peat bog. John was so overpowered by the enchanting jigs the fiddler was playing that he proposed they should go inside the crag and join in the fun.
“We should never be able to get away,” declared Donald. “I am as fond of dancing as anyone, but nothing would tempt me to dance in that company.”
However, John was more adventurous than his brother, and every new jig that was played, and every new reel that was danced inspired him with additional ardor. At last he could restrain himself no longer, and he leaped through the window into the midst of the dancers.
“Welcome!” cried the old fairy woman, and she held out her hands to him, and off they went in a mad whirl.
“He is there for no good,” said Donald, who still stood at the window. “What can I do?”
After thinking the situation over he began to shout remonstrances to his brother and to beg him to come out. But neither the fairies nor John would pause in their reel, and they only waved their hands, beckoning him to join them. There Donald stayed shouting to his brother until he heard a cock crow at his master’s farm. Immediately the lights flashed out, the music ceased and he was alone on the side of the wild crag.
He went back to the farm and told the melancholy tale of poor John’s fate. This was soon the talk of all the countryside, and it was generally agreed that John was lost forever. But one old man who was very wise in fairy lore came to Donald and unfolded a plan for accomplishing his brother’s rescue. “Make a little cross out of the wood of the rowan tree,” said he, “and carry it in your pocket, and the fairies will have no power over you. Then be sure to pass Merlin’s Crag every evening, and when you see it lighted, enter it boldly and claim your brother. If he refuses to go with you, seize him and carry him off by force. You need not be afraid, for as long as you have the rowan cross in your pocket the fairies will not dare to interfere with you.”