"It's a weird sort of story. There was once a lad named Will Killigarth, who lived at Horndon, up on the moor. There was a witch in the village, and she told him that if he would go on Hallowe'en and dig inside one of the ancient stone circles that he would find treasure, only he must go at midnight, and go alone. He was rather frightened of the business, but he took his father's spade and went. It was heavy work digging, but at last he struck something, and drew out a bowl of rough pottery, all full of gold pieces. He was just picking this up when he heard a cry, and in the moonlight he saw a most lovely girl with streaming yellow hair stretching out her hands imploringly to him. She said she was the guardian of the gold, and begged him to bury it again where it was in the circle. He said he would do so if she would marry him, and after thinking awhile she said yes. So he buried the treasure and took the girl home to the village and married her. She lived with him just a year, and then on the next Hallowe'en she vanished, and he never saw her again. He hunted for the stone circle where he had dug before, but he never could find the right one again. There are so many of them up on the moor. So he lost both the treasure and the girl." "Did they actually _believe_ these stories?" asked Mavis, knitting her brows. "Oh yes, in the old days they believed them, just as they believed in witches and charms and all the rest of it. Mr. Barnes calls all the old tales folk-history. He says the pixies were the prehistoric Stone Age or Bronze Age people who lived on into historic times, and hid themselves in the mounds or caves or wild places on the moor. The stories of the pixies' habits and haunts read just like accounts of very primitive people. Bronze Age or Stone Age folk would be sure to come at night and steal things from the Celtic tribes who had settled in Devon, and they would bury their treasures inside their huts. The stone circles on the moor are the ruined walls of their huts." "But surely the Stone Age folk didn't go living on till about the seventeenth century?" asked Mavis, still puzzled. "No, but you know how people like to bring a story up to date. They often tell you a thing happened to themselves when you know it must have happened to their great-grandfather. The old Celtic accounts of the little men on the moor would keep being handed down, and each generation would fit the story with fresh names, and a few extra details." "Miss Donald told us a lot about that at Whinburn High. She said the dragons of old folk-tales were probably prehistoric animals that had lingered on in lonely places--very likely pterodactyls." "I dare say they were. To judge from the fossils that have been found the old monsters must have been pretty common in Devon. You should ask Mr. Barnes. He's great on all this kind of thing, always poking about and digging, and measuring hut circles and all the rest of it." "It's awfully fascinating," said Mavis.