uncle was telling me, Duncan was hardly speaking a word. My uncle he was sitting in the chair, and looking at his hand, and moaning; and the redder and redder grew the marks; and at last he got up, and says he, ’Duncan,’ says he, ’something has come over me; something is drawing me; will you open the door, for I have no strength to open the door?’ His teeth were chattering, as he was telling me long after, and himself shaking, and sweat on his forehead. ’No, by God, Angus,’ says Duncan, ’I will not open the door this night—nor you either—and if you come near the door, it will be a fight between you and me.’ ’I am not wishing for any fight,’ says my uncle, ’but there is something in my head—and I would like to look down the ladder—to see what is at the foot of the ladder.’ ’Be still, for a foolish man!’ says Duncan. ’Would you fall and smash yourself on the rocks?’ Well, the time was come. My uncle’s teeth were chattering; but he did not speak now; he was sitting and moaning, for he knew the beast had put something over him, and was coming now to claim him. And then they were listening; and as they were listening there was a terrible clap of thunder, and another, and another—three there were—and then silence. My uncle was telling me he did not speak; and Duncan looked at him. They waited a while. And then my uncle rose, and says he, ’Duncan, the beast has gone away. Do you see the marks?—they are white now.’ And perhaps, Calum, you would have opened the door and gone down the iron ladder to see what had happened at the foot of the ladder—although it was dark—and the dog might still be there; but let me tell you this, that if you had been living in a lighthouse, you would not have gone down; for the men who live in the lighthouses they think of many things. It was not till the next morning that they went down the ladder; and do you know what was there?—the otter-trap was closed together, and yet there was nothing in it. Do you see that, now—that the trap had closed together and caught nothing; but I am thinking that the beast, whatever kind of beast it was, had got a fine burn on his foot when he touched the New Testament. I am thinking that. And the marks on my uncle’s hand, they went away almost directly; and the dog was never heard of again: I tell you, Calum, I tell you it was a clever thing of Duncan MacEachran to put the otter-trap and the New Testament at the foot of the ladder. But those men at the lighthouses, they come upon strange things, and they will not always speak of them, because it is safer not to speak of them." "I am glad I am not at a lighthouse," said Calum, slowly; and thereafter for some little time the two men walked up and down in silence.