That very night
he had intended, on his return from Muir of Warlock, to light him
up; and now that he was driven out by the cold, he would brave, in his
own den, in the heart of the snow, the enemy that had roused
him, and make his experiment.
He dressed himself, crept softly out, and, for a preparation, would
have a good run. He trotted down the hill, beating his feet hard,
until he reached the more level road, where he set out at full
speed, and soon was warm as any boy need care to be.
About three o'clock in the morning, the laird woke suddenly,
without knowing why. But he was not long without knowing why he
should not go to sleep again. From a distance, as it seemed,
through the stillness of the night, in rapid succession, came three
distinct shrieks, one close on the other, as from the throat of a
human being in mortal terror. Never had such shrieks invaded his
ears. Whether or not they came from some part of his own house, he
could not tell. He sprung upon the floor, thinking first of his
boy, and next of the old man whom he had left drunk in his bed, and
dressed as fast as he could, expecting every moment a fresh assault
of horrible sound. But all he heard was the hasty running of far
off feet. He hurried down, passing carefully his mother's door, but
listening as he passed, in the hope of finding she had not been
disturbed. He heard nothing, and went on. But in truth the old lady
lay trembling, too terrified to move or utter a sound.
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