Yet you drive him up there every night of the year." "Bad dreams, lad; bad dreams," said the old man, shaking his head with portentous gravity, "forby the boggle of auld Wilson--that's maybe what maks Sim ga rakin aboot the fell o' neets without ony eerand." "Ay, ay, that's aboot it," said the others, removing their pipes together and speaking with the gravity and earnestness of men who had got a grip of the key to some knotty problem.

"The ghost of auld Wilson." "The ghost of some of your stout sticks, I reckon," said Ralph, turning upon them with a shadow of a sneer on his frank face.
His companions laughed.

Just then the wind rose higher than before, and came in a gust down the open chimney.

The dogs that had been sleeping on the sanded floor got up, walked across the room with drooping heads, and growled.

Then they lay down again and addressed themselves afresh to sleep.