Sandy knew the pictures in the “Pilgrim's Progress,” and Andrew had read it through more than once: when they saw the man had a book in his hand, open, and heard him, standing there in the sun, begin to read from it, they thought it must be Christian, waiting for Evangelist to come to him. It is impossible to say how much is fact and how much imagination in what children recollect; the one must almost always supplement the other; but they were quite sure that the words he read were these: “And lo, I am with you always, even to the end of the world!” The next thing they remembered was their walking slowly down the hill in the red light, and all at once waking up to the fact that the man was gone, they did not know when or where. But their arms were round each other's necks, and they were full of a strange awe. Then Andrew saw something red on Sandy's face. “Eh, Sandy!” he cried, “it's bluid!” and burst into tears. It was his own blood, not Sandy's!--the discovery of which fact relieved Andrew, and did not so greatly discompose Sandy, who was less sensitive. They began at length to speculate on what had happened. One thing was clear: it was because they were fighting that the man had come; but it was not so clear who the man was. He could not be Christian, because Christian went over the river! Andrew suggested it might have been Evangelist, for he seemed to be always about. Sandy added, as his contribution to the idea, that he might have picked up Christian's bundle and been carrying it home to his wife. They came, however, to the conclusion, by no ratiocination, I think, but by a conviction which the idea itself brought with it, that the stranger was the Lord himself, and that the pack on His back was their sins, which He was carrying away to throw out of the world. “Eh, wasna it fearfu' He should come by jist when we was fechtin'!” said Sandy. “Eh, na! it was a fine thing that! We micht hae been at it yet! But we winna noo!--will we ever, Sandy?” “Na, that we winna!” “For,” continued Andrew, “He said 'Lo, I am with you always!' And suppose He werena, we daurna be that ahint His back we would na be afore His face!” “Do you railly think it _was_ Him, Andrew?” “Weel,” replied Andrew, “gien the deevil be goin' aboot like a roarin' lion, seekin' whom he may devoor, as father says, it's no likely _He_ would na be goin' aboot as weel, seekin' to haud him aff o' 's!” “Ay!” said Sandy. “And noo,” said the elder, “what are we to do?”