ed in this
fashion, and we were eagerly anticipating the taking of more, when a
sensation of icy coldness suddenly stole over us, and, on looking
round, we perceived, to our utmost consternation, a very tall keeper
standing only a few yards away from us. For once in a way, Alec was
nonplussed, and a deathly silence ensued. It was too dark for us to
see the figure of the keeper very distinctly, and we could only
distinguish a gleaming white face set on a very slight and
perpendicular frame, and a round, glittering something that puzzled us
both exceedingly. Then, a feeling that, perhaps, it was not a keeper
gradually stole over me, and in a paroxysm of ungovernable terror I
caught hold of Alec, who was trembling from head to foot as if he had
the ague. The figure remained absolutely still for about a minute,
during which time neither Alec nor I could move a muscle, and then,
turning round with an abrupt movement, came towards us.

"Half-dead with fright, but only too thankful to find that we had now
regained the use of our limbs, we left our spoil and ran for our lives
in the direction of the wall.

"We dared not look back, but we knew the figure followed us, for we
heard its footsteps close at our heels; and never to my dying day
shall I forget the sound--rat-tat, tat, rat-tat, tat--for all the
world like the beat of a muffled drum.

"How we ever managed to reach the wall I could never tell, but as we
scrambled over it, regardless of man-traps and bruises, and plunged
into the heather on the other side, we heard the weird footsteps
receding in the direction of the castle, and, ere we had reached home,
the rat-tat, tat, rat-tat, tat, had completely died away.

"We told no one a word of what had happened, and a few days after,
simultaneously with the death of one of the Airlies, we learned, for
the first time, the story of the Phantom Drummer.

"I have little doubt," Mr. Porter added, in conclusion, "that the
figure we took to be a keeper was the prophetic Drummer, for I can
assure you there was no possibility of hoaxers, especially in such
ill-omened guise, anywhere near the Cortachy estate."

Poor old Mr. Porter! He did not long survive our _rencontre_. When I
next visited the hotel, some months later, I was genuinely grieved to
hear of his decease. His story had greatly fascinated me, for I love
the solitude of the pines, and have myself from time to time witnessed
many remarkable occult phenomena under the shad