The place was small, as I think I have before said, and comprised two rooms shut off from each other by a strong partition with a door midway.  Lifting the candle, I glanced at the staple on which the builder of the cottage had choked out his life so many years ago, and, calling to mind the Ancient’s fierce desire to outlast it, I even reached up my hand and gave it a shake.  But, despite the rust of years, the iron felt as strong and rigid as ever, so that it seemed the old man’s innocent wish must go unsatisfied after all.  The second room appeared much the same size as the first, and like it in all respects, till, looking upwards, I noticed a square trap door in a corner, while underneath, against the wall, hung a rough ladder.  This I proceeded to lift down, and mounting, cautiously lifted the trap.  Holding the candle above my head to survey this chamber, or rather garret, the first object my eye encountered was a small tin pannikin, and beyond that a stone jar, or demijohn.  Upon closer inspection I found this last to be nearly full of water quite sweet and fresh to the taste, which, of itself, was sufficient evidence that some one had been here very lately.  I now observed a bundle of hay in one corner, which had clearly served for a bed, beside which were a cracked mug, a tin plate, a pair of shoes, and an object I took to be part of a flute or wind instrument of some kind.  But what particularly excited my interest were the shoes, which had evidently seen long and hard service, for they were much worn, and had been roughly patched here and there.  Very big they were, and somewhat clumsy, thick-soled, and square of toe, and with a pair of enormous silver buckles.

These evidences led me to believe that whoever had been here before was likely to return, and, not doubting that this must be he who had played the part of ghost so well, I determined to be ready for him.

So, leaving all things as I found them, I descended, and, having closed the trap, hung up the ladder as I had found it.

In the first of the rooms there was a rough fireplace built into one corner, and as the air struck somewhat damp and chill, I went out and gathered a quantity of twigs and dry wood, and had soon built a cheerful, crackling fire.  I now set about collecting armfuls of dry leaves, which I piled against the wall for a bed.  By the time this was completed to my satisfaction, the moon was peeping above the treetops, filling the Hollow with far-flung shadows.

I now lay down upon my leafy couch, and fell to watching the fire and listening to the small, soft song of the brook outside.  In the opposite wall was a window, the glass of which was long since gone, through which I could see a square of sky, and the glittering belt of Orion.  My eyes wandered from this to the glow of the fire many times, but gradually my head grew heavier and heavier, until, at length, the stars became confused with the winking sparks upon the hearth, and the last that I remember was that the crackle of the fire sounded strangely like the voice of the Ancient croaking: