he want of toes that made him able to come and go so
quietly?--Another hour crept by; when lo, a mighty sun-trumpet blew
in the throat of the black cock! Fergus sprang to his feet with the
start it gave him--but the next moment gladness rushed up in his
heart: the morning was on its way! and, foe to superstition as he
was, and much as he had mocked at Donal for what he counted some of
his tendencies in that direction, he began instantly to comfort
himself with the old belief that all things of the darkness flee
from the crowing of the cock. The same moment his courage began to
return, and the next he was laughing at his terrors, more foolish
than when he felt them, seeing he was the same man of fear as
before, and the same circumstances would wrap him in the same
garment of dire apprehension. In his folly he imagined himself
quite ready to watch the next night without even repugnance--for it
was the morning, not the night, that came first!

When the grey of the dawn appeared, he said to himself he would lie
down on the bench a while, he was so tired of sitting; he would not
sleep. He lay down, and in a moment was asleep. The light grew and
grew, and the brownie came--a different brownie indeed from the one
he had pictured--with the daintiest-shaped hands and feet coming out
of the midst of rags, and with no hair except roughly parted curls
over the face of a cherub--for the combing of Snowball's mane and
tail had taught Gibbie to use the same comb upon his own thatch.
But as soon as he opened the door of the dairy, he was warned by
the loud breathing of the sleeper, and looking about, espied him on
the bench behind the table, and swiftly retreated. The same instant
Fergus woke, stretched himself, saw it was broad daylight, and, with
his brain muddled by fatigue and sleep combined, crawled shivering
to bed. Then in came the brownie again; and when Jean Mavor
entered, there was her work done as usual.

Fergus was hours late for breakfast, and when he went into the
common room, found his aunt alone there.

"Weel, auntie." he said, "I think I fleggit yer broonie!"

"Did ye that, man? Ay!--An' syne ye set tee, an' did the wark
yersel to save yer auntie Jean's auld banes?"

"Na, na! I was o'er tiret for that. Sae wad ye hae been yersel',
gien ye had sitten up a' nicht."

"Wha did it, than?"

"Ow, jist yersel', I'm thinkin', auntie."

"Never a finger o' mine was laid till't, Fergus. Gien ye fleggit ae