Still she danced onwards, but she was very human, for when she came to muddy water she let her feet linger in it, and flung up her arms, dancing more wantonly than before.  A diamond on her finger shot a thread of fire over the pool.  Undoubtedly she was the devil.

Gavin leaped into the avenue, and she heard him and looked behind.  He tried to cry “Woman!” sternly, but lost the word, for now she saw him, and laughed with her shoulders, and beckoned to him, so that he shook his fist at her.  She tripped on, but often turning her head beckoned and mocked him, and he forgot his dignity and his pulpit and all other things, and ran after her.  Up Windyghoul did he pursue her, and it was well that the precentor was not there to see.  She reached the mouth of the avenue, and kissing her hand to Gavin, so that the ring gleamed again, was gone.

The minister’s one thought was to find her, but he searched in vain.  She might be crossing the hill on her way to Thrums, or perhaps she was still laughing at him from behind a tree.  After a longer time than he was aware of, Gavin realised that his boots were chirping and his trousers streaked with mud.  Then he abandoned the search and hastened homewards in a rage.

From the hill to the manse the nearest way is down two fields, and the little minister descended them rapidly.  Thrums, which is red in daylight, was grey and still as the cemetery.  He had glimpses of several of its deserted streets.  To the south the watch-light showed brightly, but no other was visible.  So it seemed to Gavin, and then—­suddenly—­he lost the power to of people at one moment and empty the next, the minister stumbled over old Charles Yuill,

“Take me and welcome,” Yuill cried, mistaking Gavin for the enemy.  He had only one arm through the sleeve of his jacket, and his feet were bare.

“I am Mr. Dishart.  Are the soldiers already in the square, Yuill?”

“They’ll be there in a minute.”

The man was so weak that Gavin had to hold him.

“Be a man, Charles.  You have nothing to fear.  It is not such as you the soldiers have come for.  If need be, I can swear that you had not the strength, even if you had the will, to join in the weavers’ riot.”

“For Godsake, Mr. Dishart,” Yuill cried, his hands chattering on Gavin’s coat, “dinna swear that.  My laddie was in the thick o’ the riot; and if he’s ta’en there’s the poor’s-house gaping for Kitty and me, for I couldna weave half a web a week.  If there’s a warrant agin onybody o’ the name of Yuill, swear it’s me; swear I’m a desperate character, swear I’m michty strong for all I look palsied; and if when they take me, my courage breaks down, swear the mair, swear I confessed my guilt to you on the Book.”

As Yuill spoke the quick rub-a-dub of a drum was heard.

“The soldiers!” Gavin let go his hold of the old man, who hastened away to give himself up.

“That’s no the sojers,” said a woman; “it’s the folk gathering in the square.  This’ll be a watery Sabbath In Thrums.”