"An' why do 'ee look at a man so sharp an' sudden-like?" retorted

Job sullenly; "dang me! if it aren't enough to send cold shivers

up a chap's spine--I never see such a pair o' eyes afore--no--nor

don't want to again."

"Nonsense!" said I; "my eyes can't hurt you."

"An' 'ow am I to know that, 'ow am I to be sure o' that; an' you

wi' your throat all torn wi' devil's claws an' demon's clutches

--it bean't nat'ral--Old Amos says so, an' I sez so."

"Pure folly!" said I, plucking the iron from the fire, and

beginning to beat and shape it with my hammer, but presently,

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remembering the strange man who had spoken my name, I looked up,

and then I saw that he was gone. "Where is he?" said I

involuntarily.

"Where's who?" inquired John Pringle, glancing about uneasily.

"The fellow who was talking to me as you came up?"

"I didn't see no fellow!" said Job, looking at John and edging

nearer the door.

"Nor me neither!" chimed in John Pringle, looking at Job.

"Why, he was leaning in at the window here, not a minute ago,"

said I, and, plunging the half-finished horseshoe back into the

fire, I stepped out into the road, but the man was nowhere to be

seen.

"Very strange!" said I.

"What might 'e 'ave been like, now?" inquired John.

"He was tall and thin, and wore a big flapping hat."

John Pringle coughed, scratched his chin, and coughed again.

"What is it, John?" I inquired.

"Why, then, you couldn't 'appen to notice--'im wearin' 'is 'at

--you couldn't 'appen to notice if 'e 'ad ever a pair o' 'orns,

Peter?"

"Horns!" I exclaimed.

"Or a--tail, Peter?"

"Or even a--'oof, now?" suggested Job.

"Come," said I, looking from one to the other, "what might you be

driving at?"

"Why, ye see, Peter," answered John, coughing again, and

scratching his chin harder than ever, "ye see, Peter, it aren't

nat'ral for a 'uman bein' to go a-vanishin' away like this 'ere

--if 'twere a man as you was a-talkin' to--"

"Which I doubts!" muttered Job.

"If 'twere a man, Peter, then I axes you--where is that man?"

Before I could answer this pointed question, old Joel Amos

hobbled up, who paused on the threshold to address some one over

his shoulder.




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