But a weary man was Angus, when at length he reached the house.

It was all he could do to get himself in at the window, and crawl up the stair.

At the top of it he fell benumbed on the floor.
By the time that, repentant and grateful, Mistress Mac Pholp bethought herself of Gibbie, not a trace of him was to be seen; and Angus, contemplating his present experience in connection with that of Robert Grant's cottage, came to the conclusion that he must be an emissary of Satan who on two such occasions had so unexpectedly rescued him.

Perhaps the idea was not quite so illogical as it must seem; for how should such a man imagine any other sort of messenger taking an interest in his life?
He was confirmed in the notion when he found that a yard of the line remained attached to the grate, but the rest of it with the anker was gone--fit bark for the angel he imagined Gibbie, to ride the stormy waters withal.

While they looked for him in the water and on the land, Gibbie was again in the room below, carrying out a fresh thought.