“You get behind that tree--no, you are the smaller object--you get behind that stone, and I’ll get behind the tree,” said Turkey; “and when the Kelpie comes out, you make a noise like a beast, and rush at her on all-fours.” “I’m good at a pig, Turkey,” I said. “Will a pig do?” “Yes, well enough.” “But what if she should know me, and catch me, Turkey?” “She will start away from you to my side; I shall rush out like a mad dog, and then she’ll run for it.” We waited a long time--a very long time, it seemed to me. It was well it was summer. We talked a little across, and that helped to beguile the weary time; but at last I said in a whisper: “Let’s go home, Turkey, and lock the doors, and keep her out.” “You go home then, Ranald, and I’ll wait. I don’t mind if it be till to-morrow morning. It is not enough to be sure ourselves; we must be able to make other people sure.” “I’ll wait as long as you do, Turkey; only I’m very sleepy, and she might come out when I was asleep.” “Oh, I shall keep you awake!” replied Turkey; and we settled down again for a while. At the long last the latch of the door was lifted. I was just falling asleep, but the sound brought me wide awake at once. I peeped from behind my shelter. It was the Kelpie, with an empty bag--a pillow-case, I believe--in her hand. Behind her came Wandering Willie, but did not follow her from the door. The moment was favourable, for the moon was under a thick cloud. Just as she reached the stone, I rushed out on hands and knees, grunting and squeaking like a very wild pig indeed. As Turkey had foretold, she darted aside, and I retreated behind my stone. The same instant Turkey rushed at her with such canine fury, that the imitation startled even me, who had expected it. You would have thought the animal was ready to tear a whole army to pieces, with such a complication of fierce growls and barks and squeals did he dart on the unfortunate culprit. She took to her heels at once, not daring to make for the cottage, because the enemy was behind her. But I had hardly ensconced myself behind the stone, repressing my laughter with all my might, when I was seized from behind by Wandering Willie, who had no fear either of pig or dog. He began pommelling me. [Illustration] “Turkey! Turkey!” I cried. The cry stopped his barking pursuit of the Kelpie. He rose to his feet and rushed to my aid. But when he saw the state of affairs, he turned at once for the cottage, crying: “Now for a kick at the bagpipes!” Wandering Willie was not too much a fool to remember and understand. He left me instantly, and made for the cottage. Turkey drew back and let him enter, then closed the door, and held it. “Get away a bit, Ranald. I can run faster than Willie. You’ll be out of sight in a few yards.”