Danny was superstitious. He was full to the throat of fairy lore and stories of witchcraft. The night was dark; the road was lonely; hardly a sound save that of his own footsteps broke the stillness, and the ghostly memories would arise. To banish them Danny began to whistle, and, failing with that form of musical society, to sing. His selection of a song was not the happiest under the circumstances. Oddly enough, it was the doleful ballad of Myle Charaine. Danny sang it in Manx, but here is a stave of it in the lusty tones of the fine old "Lavengro"-- "O, Myle Charaine, where got you your gold? Lone, lone, you have left me here. O, not in the curragh, deep under the mold, Lone, lone, and void of cheer." There was not much cheer that Danny could get out of Myle Charaine's company, but he could not at the moment think of any ballad hero who was much more heartsome. He had a good step of the road to go yet. Somehow the wild legend of the Moddey Dhoo would creep up into Danny's mind. In the days when the old castle was garrisoned, the soldiers in the guardroom were curious about a strange black dog that came every night and lay in their midst. "It's a devil," said one. "I'll follow it and see," said another. When the dog arose to go, the intrepid soldier went out after it. His comrades tried to prevent him. "I'll follow it," he said, "if it leads to hell." A minute afterward there was an unearthly scream; the soldier rushed back pale as a corpse, and with great staring eyes. He said not a word, and died within the hour. The Moddey Dhoo kept tormenting poor Danny to-night. So he set up the song afresh, and to heighten the sportive soul of it, he began to run. Once having taken to his heels, Danny ran as if the black dog itself had been behind him. By the time he reached the town he was fairly spent. Myle Charaine and the Moddey Dhoo together had been too much for Danny. What with the combined exertion of legs and lungs, the lad was perspiring from head to foot.