ened us so, was not, I do
assure you, the landing of foreign spirits, nor the loom of a lugger at
twilight in the gloom of the winter moonrise. That which made as crouch
in by the fire, or draw the bed-clothes over us, and try to think of
something else, was a strange mysterious sound.

At grey of night, when the sun was gone, and no red in the west
remained, neither were stars forthcoming, suddenly a wailing voice rose
along the valleys, and a sound in the air, as of people running. It
mattered not whether you stood on the moor, or crouched behind rocks
away from it, or down among reedy places; all as one the sound would
come, now from the heart of the earth beneath, now overhead bearing
down on you. And then there was rushing of something by, and melancholy
laughter, and the hair of a man would stand on end before he could
reason properly.

God, in His mercy, knows that I am stupid enough for any man, and very
slow of impression, nor ever could bring myself to believe that our
Father would let the evil one get the upper hand of us. But when I had
heard that sound three times, in the lonely gloom of the evening fog,
and the cold that followed the lines of air, I was loath to go abroad by
night, even so far as the stables, and loved the light of a candle more,
and the glow of a fire with company.

There were many stories about it, of course, all over the breadth of the
moorland. But those who had heard it most often declared that it must be
the wail of a woman's voice, and the rustle of robes fleeing horribly,
and fiends in the fog going after her. To that, however, I paid no heed,
when anybody was with me; only we drew more close together, and barred
the doors at sunset.

CHAPTER XIII

MASTER HUCKABACK COMES IN

Mr. Reuben Huckaback, whom many good folk in Dulverton will remember
long after my time, was my mother's uncle, being indeed her mother's
brother. He owned the very best shop in the town, and did a fine
trade in soft ware, especially when the pack-horses came safely in at
Christmas-time. And we being now his only kindred (except indeed his
granddaughter, little Ruth Huckaback, of whom no one took any heed),
mother beheld it a Christian duty to keep as well as could be with him,
both for love of a nice old man, and for the sake of her children. And
truly, the Dulverton people said that he was the richest man in their
town, and could buy up half the county armigers; 'ay, and if it came to
that, they w