"Oh, ey seen, that he-witch, Nick Demdike." "Nick Demdike here!" cried Ashbead, looking round in alarm.

"Has he owerheert us ?" "Loike enow," replied Hal o' Nabs.

"But ey didna moind him efore." "Naw ey noather," cried Ruchot o' Roaph's, crossing himself, and spitting on the ground.

"Owr Leady o' Whalley shielt us fro' t' warlock!" "Tawkin o' Nick Demdike," cried Hal o' Nabs, "yo'd a strawnge odventer wi' him t' neet o' t' great brast o' Pendle Hill, hadna yo, Cuthbert ?" "Yeigh, t' firrups tak' him, ey hadn," replied Ashbead.

"Theawst hear aw abowt it if t' will.