“Then the loom stopped and old Knowles came forth and glided downstairs; and not a step creaked under him, for young Knowles specially noted that wonder when he told my grandfather the adventure.

“At sight of Old Weaver, Parson took his churchyard dust and boldly threw it in the face of the vision, and afore you could cross your heart the shadow had turned into a gert black dog—­so dark as night.  The poor beast whimpered and yowled something cruel, but Parson was short and stern with it, well knowing you can’t have half measures with spirits, no more than you can with living men if you will to conquer ’em.  So he takes a high line with the weaver, as one to be obeyed.

“‘Follow me, Knowles,’ he said to the creature.  ’Follow me in the name of the Father, Son, and Ghost’; which the forlorn dog did do willy-nilly; and he led it down the Burn, to Hound’s Pool, and there bade it halt.  Then the man of God took a nutshell—­just a filbert with a hole in it bored by a squirrel—­and he gave it boldly into the dog’s mouth.

“‘Henceforth,’ he said, ’you shall labour here to empty the pool, using nought but this nutshell to do so; and when you have done your work, but no sooner, then you shall go back whence you came.’

“And the Hound will be on the job till the end of the world afore he gets peace, no doubt, and them with ears to hear, may oft listen to a sound in the water like the rattling of a loom to this day; but ’tis no more than that poor devil-dog of a Knowles at his endless task.”

Millicent poured the old man another cup of tea and Parsloe went to work and Wade applauded the tale-teller.

“A very fine yarn, uncle,” he said, “and I’m glad to know the rights of it; and if the Hound brings luck, I hope I’ll see him.”

“More would see him if faith was there,” answered old Belchamber.  “But where do you find faith in these days?  For all I can see the childer taught in school don’t believe in nothing on earth but themselves.  In fact, you may say a bald head be a figure of scorn to ’em, same as it was in the prophet’s time.”

“Youth will run to youth, like water to the sea,” said Harry Wade.  “But a very fine tale, master, and I hope I may be the next to meet thicky ghost Hound I’m sure.”

“You’ve had your luck, Mr. Wade, by all accounts,” laughed Millicent, but the returned native was doubtful.  They chatted and he told ’em some of his adventures and how, at the last gasp, prospecting along with two other men, they had found a bit of gold at last.

“Not any too much for three, however,” said Harry; “but enough for a simple customer like me.  They say lucky in life unlucky in love; but I much hope I haven’t been too lucky in life to spoil my chance of a home-grown partner.”