"Why, ye see, Gaffer," said Job at last, "theer's been a lot o' talk o' this 'ere ghost, an' some 'as even said as they 'eerd it, but, come to think on it, nobody's never laid eyes on it but you, so—" "There you are wrong, my fellow," said I, stepping into the room. "I also have seen it." "You?" exclaimed Job, while half-a-dozen pairs of eyes stared at me in slow wonderment. "Certainly I have." "But you said as it were a Scotchman, wi' a bagpipe, I heerd ye—we all did." "And believed it—like fools!" "Peter!" cried the Ancient, rising up out of his chair, "Peter, do 'ee mean it?" "To be sure I do." "Do 'ee mean it were a ghost, Peter, do 'ee?" "Why, of course it was," I nodded, "a ghost, or the devil himself, hoof, horns, tail, and all—to say nothing of the fire and brimstone." "Peter," said the Ancient, straightening his bent old back proudly, "oh, Peter!—tell 'em I'm a man o' truth, an' no liar—tell 'em, Peter." "They know that," said I; "they know it without my telling them, Ancient." "But," said Job, staring at me aghast, "do 'ee mean to say as you live in a place as is 'aunted by the—devil 'isself?" "Oh, Lord bless 'ee!" cried the old man, laying his hand upon my arm, "Peter don't mind Old Nick no more 'n I do—Peter aren't afeard of 'im. 'Cause why? 'Cause 'e 'ave a clean 'eart, 'ave Peter. You don't mind Old Nick, do 'ee, lad? "Not in the least," said I, whereupon those nearest instinctively shrank farther from me, while Old Amos rose and shuffled towards the door. "I've heerd o' folk sellin' theirselves to the devil afore now." said he. "You be a danged fule, Joel Amos!" exclaimed the Ancient angrily. "Fule or no—I never see a chap wi' such a tur'ble dark-lookin' face afore, an' wi' such eyes—so black, an' sharp, an' piercin' as needles, they be—ah! goes through a man like two gimblets, they do!" Now, as he spoke, Old Amos stretched out one arm towards me with his first and second fingers crossed: which fingers he now opened wide apart, making what I believe is called "the horns," and an infallible safeguard against this particular form of evil. "It's the 'Evil Eye,'" said he in a half whisper, "the 'Evil Eye'!" and, turning about, betook himself away. One by one the others followed, and, as they passed me, each man averted his eyes and I saw that each had his fingers crossed. So it came to pass that I was, thenceforward, regarded askance, if not openly avoided, by the whole village, with the exception of Simon and the Ancient, as one in league with the devil, and possessed of the "Evil Eye." CHAPTER XXXI IN WHICH DONALD BIDS ME FAREWELL