“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.