“Mare, mare, see thou be;
    And where I point thee carry me.”

Suddenly she was metamorphosed, and Robin in his turn bestrode the witch.  He spared her not, as will readily be imagined, until he had her safe in her own stable before break of day.  Leaving her there with the bridle about her neck, he entered the house, hungry and jaded.  Soon he heard Giles coming down-stairs in a great hurry—­

“How now, sirrah!” cried the incensed miller; “did I not tell thee to forbid thy mistress the mare?”

“Why, master,” replied Robin, scratching his head, “and so I have—­the beast hasna’ been ridden sin’ ye backed her on Friday.”

“Thou art a lying hound to look me in the face and say so.  Thy mistress hath been out again last night upon her old errands—­I found it out when I awaked.”

“And what’s the matter of that?” said Robin, with great alacrity.  “Ye may go see, master, an’ ye liken—­the mare’s as dry as our meal-tub, and as brisk as bottled ale.”

Giles turned angrily away from him towards the stable, tightening a tough cudgel in his grasp, with which he intended to belabour the unfortunate hind on his return.  Nor was he long absent—­Robin had scarcely swallowed a mouthful of hot porridge when his master thus accosted him—­

“Why, thou hob thrust, no good can come where thy fingers are a-meddling; there is another jade besides mine own tied to the rack, not worth a groat.  Dost let thy neighbours lift my oats and provender?  Better turn my mill into a spital for horses, and nourish all the worn-out kibboes i’ the parish!”

“Nay, measter, the beast is yours; and ye ha’ foun’ her bed and provender these twenty years.”

“I’ll cudgel that lying spirit out o’ thee,” said Giles, wetting his hands for a firm grasp at the stick.

“Hold, master!” said Robin, stepping aside; “she has cost you more currying than all the combs in the stable are worth.  Step in and take off the bridle, and then say whose beast she is, and who hath most right to her, you or your neighbours.  But mind, when the bridle is off her neck, she slip it not on to yours; for if she do you are a gone man.”

Giles stayed not, but ran with great haste into the stable.  The tired beast could scarcely stand; but he pulled off the bridle, and—­as Robin told the tale—­his own spouse immediately stood confessed before him!

Here we pause.  In the next part we shall rapidly sketch another of the traditions current on this strange subject.  It will but be a brief and shadowy outline:  space forbids us to dilate:  the whole volume would not contain the stories that tradition attributes to the prevalence of this unnatural and revolting, though, it may be, imaginary crime.

* * * * *

FOOTNOTES: 

[37] [Illustration:  Clyfrigrcype], or the rocky district.