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 upon the very spot where he had last seen the tall figure, he discerned, as if lurking among the long heather, a small black rough-looking object, like a terrier dog. "He has nae dog that ever I heard of," said Hobbie, "but mony a de'il about his hand—Lord forgi'e me for saying sic a word!—It keeps its grund, be what it like—I'm judging it's a badger; but whae kens what shapes thae bogles will take to fright a body—it will maybe start up like a lion or a crocodile when I come nearer—I'se e'en drive a stane at it, for if it change it's shape when I'm ower near, Tarras will never stand it, and it will be ower muckle to hae him and the de'il to fight wi' baith at ance."

He therefore cautiously threw a stone at the object, which continued motionless. "It's nae living thing, after a'," said Hobbie, but the very bag o' siller he flung out o' the window yesterday! and that other queer lang creature has just brought