"A body!" says we, and we none of us likit that. For there was nae
boat that could have brought a man, and the key o' the prison yett
hung ower my faither's at hame in the press bed.
We keept the twa boats close for company, and crap in nearer hand.
Grandfaither had a gless, for he had been a sailor, and the captain
of a smack, and had lost her on the sands of Tay. And when we took
the glass to it, sure eneuch there was a man. He was in a crunkle
o' green brae, a wee below the chaipel, a' by his lee lane, and
lowped and flang and danced like a daft quean at a waddin'.
"It's Tod," says grandfather, and passed the gless to Sandie.
"Ay, it's him," says Sandie.
"Or ane in the likeness o' him," says grandfaither.
"Sma' is the differ," quo' Sandie. "De'il or warlock, I'll try the
gun at him," quo' he, and broucht up a fowling-piece that he aye
carried, for Sandie was a notable famous shot in all that country.
"Haud your hand, Sandie," says grandfaither; "we maun see clearer
first," says he, "or this may be a dear day's wark to the baith of
us."
"Hout!" says Sandie, "this is the Lord's judgment surely, and be
damned to it," says he.
"Maybe ay, and maybe no," says my grandfaither, worthy man! "But
have you a mind of the Procurator Fiscal, that I think ye'll have
foregaithered wi' before," says he.
This was ower true, and Sandie was a wee thing set ajee. "Aweel,
Edie," says he, "and what would be your way of it?"
"Ou, just this," says grandfaither. "Let me that has the fastest
boat gang back to North Berwick, and let you bide here and keep an
eye on Thon. If I cannae find Lapraik, I'll join ye and the twa of
us'll have a crack wi' him. But if Lapraik's at hame, I'll rin up
the flag at the harbour, and ye can try Thon Thing wi' the gun."
Aweel, so it was agreed between them twa. I was just a bairn, an'
clum in Sandie's boat, whaur I thoucht I would see the best of the
employ. My grandsire gied Sandie a siller tester to pit in his gun
wi' the leid draps, bein mair deidly again bogles. And then the as
boat set aff for North Berwick, an' the tither lay whaur it was and
watched the wanchancy thing on the brae-side.
A' the time we lay there it lowped and flang and capered and span
like a teetotum, and whiles we could hear it skelloch as it span.
I hae seen lassies, the daft queans, that would lowp and dance a
winter's nicht, and still be lowping and dancing when the winter's
day cam in. But there would be fowk there to hauld them company,
and the lads to egg them on; and this thing was its lee-lane. And
there would be a fiddler diddling his elbock in the chimney-side;
and this thing had nae music but the skirling of the solans. And
the lassies were bits o' young things wi' the reid life dinnling
and stending in their members; and this was a muckle, fat, creishy
man, and him fa'n in the vale o' years. Say what ye like, I maun
say what I believe. It was joy was in the creature's heart, the
joy o' hell, I daursay: joy whatever. Mony a time I have askit
mysel' why witches and warlocks should sell their sauls (whilk are
their maist dear possessions) and be auld, duddy, wrunkl't wives or
auld, feckless, doddered men; and then I mind upon Tod Lapraik
dancing a' the hours by his lane in the black glory of his heart.
Nae doubt they burn for it muckle in hell, but they have a grand
time here of it, whatever!--and the Lord forgie us!
Weel, at the hinder end, we saw the wee flag yirk up to the mast-
heid upon the harbour rocks. That was a' Sandie waited for. He up
wi' the gun, took a deleeberate aim, an' pu'd the trigger. There
cam' a bang and then ae waefu' skirl frae the Bass. And there were
we rubbin' our een and lookin' at ither like daft folk. For wi'
the bang and the skirl the thing had clean disappeared. The sun
glintit, the wund blew, and there was the bare yaird whaur the
Wonder had been lowping and flinging but ae second syne.