“Then … it will be the Kelpie.”
“Is there … is there one of the … the cave-women here?”
“It is said; and you know of old that the Kelpie sings or plays a strange tune to wile seamen to their death.”
At that moment, the fantastic jerking music came loud and clear across the bay. There was a horrible suggestion in it, as if dead bodies were moving along the ground with long jerks, and crying and laughing wild. It was enough; the men, Campbell and MacEwan, would not now have waited longer if Achanna had offered them all he had in the world. Nor were they, or he, out of their panic haste till the smack stood well out at sea, and not a sound could be heard from Eilanmore.
They stood watching, silent. Out of the dusky mass that lay in the seaward way to the north came a red gleam. It was like an eye staring after them with blood-red glances.
“What is that, Achanna?” asked one of the men at last.
“It looks as though a fire had been lit in the house up in the island. The door and the window must be open. The fire must be fed with wood, for no peats would give that flame; and there were none lit when I left. To my knowing, there was no wood for burning except the wood of the shelves and the bed.”
“And who would be doing that?”
“I know of that no more than you do, Callum Campbell.”