The Broad Highway by Farnol, Jeffery, 1878-1952

"Wait," said the old man, laying his hand upon my arm, "I've took to you, young chap, took to you amazin'; what might your name be?"

"Peter," I answered.

"A good name, a fine name," nodded the old man.

"Peter--Simon," said he, glancing from one to the other of us. "Simon--Peter; minds me o' the disciple of our blessed Lord, it du; a fine name be Peter."

So Peter I became to him thenceforth, and to the whole village.

CHAPTER XXVI

WHEREIN I LEARN MORE CONCERNING THE GHOST OF THE RUINED HUT

And after the Ancient and Simon and I had, very creditably, emptied the jug between us, I rose to depart.

"Peter," said the Ancient, "wheer be goin'?"

"Home!" said I.

"And wheer be that?"

"The cottage in the Hollow," said I.

"What--th' 'aunted cottage?" he cried, staring.

"Yes," I nodded; "from what I saw of it, I think, with a little repairing, it might suit me very well."

"But the ghost?" cried the old man; "have ye forgot the ghost?"

"Why, I never heard of a ghost really harming any one yet," I answered.

"Peter," said Simon, quietly, "I wouldn't be too sure o' that. I wouldn't go a-nigh the place, myself; once is enough for me."

"Simon," said I, "what do you mean by 'once'?"

Now when I asked him this, Simon breathed hard, and shuffled uneasily in his chair.

"I mean, Peter, as I've heerd un," he replied slowly.

"Heard him!" I repeated incredulously; "you? Are you sure?"

"Sure as death, Peter. I've heerd un a-shriekin' and a-groanin' to 'isself, same as Gaffer 'as, and lots of others. Why, Lord bless 'ee! theer be scarce a man in these parts but 'as 'eerd um one time or another."

"Ay--I've 'eerd un, and seen un tu!" croaked the Ancient excitedly. "A gert, tall think 'e be, wi' a 'orn on 'is 'ead, and likewise a tail; some might ha' thought 't was the Wanderin' Man o' the Roads as I found 'angin' on t' stapil--some on 'em du, but I knowed better--I knowed 't were Old Nick 'isself, all flame, and brimstone, an' wi' a babby under 'is arm!"

"A baby?" I repeated.

"A babby as ever was," nodded the Ancient.

"And you say you have heard it too, Simon?" said I.

"Ay," nodded the Innkeeper; "I went down into th' 'Oller one evenin'--'bout six months ago, wi' Black Jarge, for we 'ad a mind to knock th' owd place to pieces, and get rid o' the ghost that way. Well, Jarge ups wi' 'is 'ammer, and down comes the rotten old door wi' a crash. Jarge 'ad strung up 'is 'ammer for another blow when, all at once, theer comes a scream." Here Simon shivered involuntarily, and glanced uneasily over his shoulder, and round the room.

"A scream?" said I.

"Ah!" nodded Simon, "but 'twere worse nor that." Here he paused again, and looking closer at him, I was surprised to see that his broad, strong hands were shaking, and that his brow glistened with moisture.

"What was it like?" I inquired, struck by this apparent weakness in one so hardy and full of health.