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“Keep to your feet, man–keep to your feet!” said the Dwarf, laughing. “I doubt ye’re fou, Brockburn!”

“I’m nae fou,” said the Laird, slowly, his rung grasped firmly in his hand, and his bonnet set back from his face, which was deadly pale. “But–man-is yon Rory? I’d know his fiddle in a thousand.”

“Ask no questions, and ye’ll be tellt no lees,” said the Dwarf. Then stepping up to the door of the Shian, he stood so that the light from within fell full upon him, and the astonished Laird saw a tiny but well-proportioned man, with delicate features, and golden hair flowing over his shoulders. He wore a cloak of green cloth, lined with daisies, and had silver shoes. His beautiful face quivered with amusement, and he cried triumphantly, “D’ye see me?–d’ye see me noo, Brockburn?”

“Aye, aye,” said the Laird; “and seein’s believin’.”

“Then roun’ wi’ ye!” shouted the Man of Peace; and once more seizing the Laird by the arm, he turned him swiftly round–this time, to the right–and at the third turn the light vanished, and Brockburn and the Man of Peace were once more alone together in the mist.

“Aweel, Brockburn,” said the Man of Peace, “I’ll alloo ye’re candid, and have a convincible mind. I’m no ill disposit to ye, and yese get safe hame, man.”

As he spoke he stooped down, and picking up half-a-dozen big stones from the mountain-side, he gave them to the Laird, saying, “If the gudewife asks ye about the bit stanes, say ye got them in a compliment.”[4]

[Footnote 4: “In a compliment” = “as a present.”]

Brockburn put them into his pocket, briefly saying, “I’m obleeged to ye;” but as he followed the Man of Peace down the hill-side, he found the obligation so heavy, that from time to time he threw a stone away, unobserved, as he hoped, by his companion. When the first stone fell, the Man of Peace looked sharply round, saying:

“What’s yon?”

“It’ll be me striking my rung upon the ground,” said the Laird.

“You’re mad,” said the Man of Peace, and Brockburn felt sure that he knew the truth, and was displeased. But as they went on, the stones were so heavy, and bumped the Laird’s side so hard, that he threw away a second, dropping it as gently as he could. But the sound of its fall did not escape the ears of the Man of Peace, who cried as before:

“What’s yon?”

“It’s jest a nasty hoast[5] that I have,” said the Laird.

[Footnote 5: “Hoast” = cough.]

“Man, you’re daft,” said the Dwarf, contemptuously; “that’s what ails ye.”

The Laird now resolved to be prudent, but the inconvenience of his burden was so great that after a while he resolved to risk the displeasure of the Man of Peace once more, and gently slipped a third stone to the ground.

“Third time’s lucky,” he thought. But the proverb failed him, for the Dwarf turned as before, shouting: “What’s yon?”

“It’ll be my new brogues[6] that ye hear bumpin’ Upon the muckle stanes,” said the Laird.

[Footnote 6: “Brogues” = shoes.]

“Ye’re fou, Brockburn, I tellt ye so. Ye’re fou!” growled the Man of Peace, angrily, and the Laird dared not drop any more of the Dwarfs gifts. After a while his companion’s good-humour seemed to return, and he became talkative and generous.

“I mind your great-grandfather weel, Brockburn. He was a hamely man, I found his sheep for him one nicht on this verra hill-side. Mair by token, ye’ll find your beasties at hame, and the men and the dogs forebye.”

The Laird thanked him heartily, and after a while the Dwarf became more liberal-spirited still.

“Yese no have to say that ye’ve been with the Daoine Shi and are no the better for it,” he said. “I’m thinking I’ll grant ye three wushes. But choose wisely, man, and dinna throw them away. I hae my fears that ye’re no without a bee in your bonnet, Brockburn.”

Incensed by this insinuation, the Laird defended his own sagacity at some length, and retorted on his companion with doubts of the power of the Daoine Shi to grant wishes.