'Theer's my grandfeyther,' said 'Lias, almost in a whisper, 'an owd Needham an his two brithers, an yoong Jack Needham's woife--her as losst her babby--an yoong lads an lasses fro Clough End, childer awmost, and t' coonstable, an Passon Maine--Ay--ay--yo've doon it! Yo've doon it! She'll mak naw moor mischeef neets--she's gay quiet now! T' watter's got her fasst enough!' And, drawing himself up to his full height, the old man pointed a quivering finger at the pool. 'Ay, it's got her--an your stones are tied fasst! Passon Maine says she's safe--that yo'll see her naw moor-- While holly sticks be green, While stone on Kinder Scoot be seen. But _I_ tell yo, Passon Maine _lees!_ I tell yo t' witch ull _walk_--t' witch ull _walk!_' For several seconds 'Lias stood straining forward--out of himself--a tragic and impressive figure. Then, in a moment, from that distance his weird gift had been re-peopling, something else rose towards him--some hideous memory, as it seemed, of personal anguish, personal fear. The exalted seer's look vanished, the tension within gave way, the old man shrank together. He fell back heavily on the stone, hiding his face in his hands, and muttering to himself. The children looked at each other oddly. Then David, half afraid, touched him. 'What's t' matter, 'Lias? Are yo bad?' The old man did not move. They caught some disjointed words,--'cold--ay, t' neet's cold, varra cold!' ''Lias!' shouted David. 'Lias looked up startled, and shook his head feebly. 'Are yo bad, 'Lias?' 'Ay!' said the old schoolmaster, in the voice of one speaking through a dream--'ay, varra bad, varra cold--I mun--lig me down--a bit.' And he rose feebly. David instinctively caught hold of him, and led him to a corner close by in the ruined walls, where the heather and bilberry grew thick up to the stones. 'Lias sank down, his head fell against the wall, and a light and restless sleep seemed to take possession of him. David stood studying him, his hands in his pockets. Never in all his experience of him had 'Lias gone through such a performance as this. What on earth did it mean? There was more in it than appeared, clearly. He would tell Margaret, 'Lias's old wife, who kept him and tended him like the apple of her eye. And he would find out about the pool, anyway. _Jenny Crum's pool?_ What on earth did that mean? The name had never reached his ears before. Of course Uncle Reuben would know. The boy eyed it curiously, the details of 'Lias's grim vision returning upon him. The wild circling moor seemed suddenly to have gained a mysterious interest. 'Didn't I tell yo he wor gone silly?' said Louie, triumphantly, at his elbow. 'He's not gone that silly, onyways, but he can freeten little gells,' remarked David, dryly, instinctively putting out an arm, meanwhile, to prevent her disturbing the poor sleeper.