at after eleven, for I had heard the Tron Kirk chap recently; the
moon in her last quarter had risen, and I could dimly descry the
interior of the den.

I shrank back after peering through the small aperture, for there was my
uncle stretched out on 'Brownie's' truckle bed. The window was opened,
and I could see that the board or plank I had previously measured lay on
the sill.

Of 'Brownie' I could not see a sign.

I turned away on the instant. Now was the time to go fetch 'the
Meenister.'

Noiselessly I descended the stairs, let myself out by a low side window
in the cellar, and made straight for the lodging of 'the Meenister.' I
dared not rouse the porter of the Nether Bow Port, but climbed the wall
beyond even as Bothwell had done after the explosion at Kirk o' Field,
and made my way down the Canongate. Minister Geddes was within, and
fortunately had not yet gone to bed. He was ready in a moment to come
with me. With a Bible under his oxter, and a 'bowet' new lit in his
right hand, he accompanied me swiftly up the street. His courage was
wonderful; he seemed like 'Greatheart'--valiant to meet Apollyon in
battle. I caught hold of the end of his plaid, and followed him _non
passibus aequis_ like the _parvus Iulus_, for he hastened onward with his
loins girded up. I do not know that more than twenty minutes had elapsed
when we arrived at the cellar window and I had helped him through.
Together we noiselessly mounted the stairs; then when we arrived at
'Brownie's' den he reached me the 'bowet' to hold while he peered
through the aperture.

Then he turned to me and said in a whisper:

'Laddie, we mun just break doon the door. If it is as I'm thinkin' he
winna hear us. His evil spirit is awa i' puir 'Brownie's' body, bent on
Deevil's wark. Here's for it!' and as he spake he thrust swiftly with
his foot and broke down the wooden bolt that fastened the door.

In we went--I holding the little 'bowet' on high to give us light. 'Ay,'
whispered my companion in my ear, 'I'm richt. He's in a swoond; he disna
see or hear us.' I gazed in horror on my uncle's face. His eyes were not
closed, but were as unseeing as a blind man's. There was, I thought, a
hateful look as of triumphant evil on his lips, but his breath came
regularly as of one in deep sleep.

'Noo, laddie,' said the good minister, 'we mun act. "Brownie" will be
returnin' before daybreak, an' we hae to keep the twa o' them apairt.
_His_ evil spirit is awa wi' the