gain interposed Allister, who in general
asked all the necessary questions and at least as many unnecessary.

"A kelpie is an awful creature that eats people."

"But what is it like, Kirsty?"

"It's something like a horse, with a head like a cow."

"How big is it? As big as Hawkie?"

"Bigger than Hawkie; bigger than the biggest ox you ever saw."

"Has it a great mouth?"

"Yes, a terrible mouth."

"With teeth?"

"Not many, but dreadfully big ones."

"Oh!"

"Well, there was a shepherd many years ago, who lived not far from the
pot. He was a knowing man, and understood all about kelpies and
brownies and fairies. And he put a branch of the rowan-tree
(_mountain-ash_), with the red berries in it, over the door of his
cottage, so that the kelpie could never come in.

"Now, the shepherd had a very beautiful daughter--so beautiful that
the kelpie wanted very much to eat her. I suppose he had lifted up his
head out of the pot some day and seen her go past, but he could not
come out of the pot except after the sun was down."

"Why?" asked Allister.

"I don't know. It was the nature of the beast. His eyes couldn't bear
the light, I suppose; but he could see in the dark quite well.--One
night the girl woke suddenly, and saw his great head looking in at her
window."

"But how could she see him when it was dark?" said Allister.

"His eyes were flashing so that they lighted up all his head,"
answered Kirsty.

"But he couldn't get in!"

"No; he couldn't get in. He was only looking in, and thinking how he
_should_ like to eat her. So in the morning she told her father. And
her father was very frightened, and told her she must never be out one
moment after the sun was down. And for a long time the girl was very
careful. And she had need to be; for the creature never made any
noise, but came up as quiet as a shadow. One afternoon, however, she
had gone to meet her lover a little way down the glen; and they
stopped talking so long, about one thing and another, that the sun was
almost set before she bethought herself. She said good-night at once,
and ran for home. Now she could not reach home without passing the
pot, and just as she passed the pot, she saw the last sparkle of the
sun as he went down."

"I should think she ran!" remarked our mouthpiece, Allister.

"She did run," said Kirsty, "and had just got past the awful black
pot, which was terrible enough day or night without such a beast in
it, when--"

"B