Staunton vindicator. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1860-1896, 1895-03-29

owner. His invitation for US to make
ourselves at home sounded as if he was.
Well, would not mind meeting such
ghost again under like circumstances,
from which circumstances, however,
may heaven forefend!"
We were so tired and wet, and this
apartment being evidently the only one
in the house, we proceeded to undress
and hang up our garments to dry. I'm
der one of the sofas Hugh had discover
ed two dressing gowns of superb finish,
which we calmly appropriated, and
our host delayed So long about rejoining
us we lay down on the lounges and
were soon sleeping as worn and weary
wayfarers alone can sleep.
What sounded like the clash of a
mighty cymbal brought me erect on my
feet and wide awake after enjoying a
much needed and refreshing sleep. I
looked about. The lamp had gone out
So, too, had the fire. But in the center
of the room pillar of light seemed to
descend from the roof to the floor. In
the midst of the pillar was the upright
form of venerable old man. His head
was thrown back, his long, white hair
falling in a mass over his shoulders
His great beard covered his entire chest.
He was clad in an ox's skin, fastened
by hempen girdle. His bare arms,
powerful and sinewy, were bound be-
hind him to a shadowy stake, and his
naked feet-merciful heavens!-were
resting upon live Goals of fire. On look
ing closer at the face I saw look of
hopeless, unspeakable anguish thereon,
but not a moan escaped from the with
ing lips. AS I stood horror stricken,
sweet female voice rose and swelled in
a weird wild chant of heart piercing
sadness The words were Gallo, but
the tones in which they doated through
the silence Of the room were the tones
of soul to whom hope is lost forever.
AS it ended, a moeking laugh rang loud
outside the window and was followed
by horses neigh. We knew from the
cold blast that rushed in that some one
had opened the door. simultaneously
the specter disappeared. I felt an awe
some presence not of earth approaching
luod NO4SO SsRoPCN al 4uJ O0A, Va
Gods sake, let us fy!'
Dressed only in the gowns we had dis.
covered, we rushed madly to the door.
AS we passed its threshold, we heard
behind us yell of disappointed rage
that made the blood run cold in our
veins.
We dashed on blindly, panic stricken.
At length toward morning we met a
party of hunters, who at first very nat
urally took us for pair of escaped lu-
natics roaming aimlessly On the moor
and clad in two old tattered, widowed
dressing gowns that had seemed such
handsome dresses when we first saw
them in the hut. On our relating our
adventures their voices rose in mu-
tual cry of astonishment.
"Aweel! Aweell' exclaimed the eld-
est Of the hunters, a grizzled veteran,
with the SHOWS of some 60 winters on
his head. eye air tn first men that ev-
tell the tale"
We begged him to explain, for sick
and scared as we were we were an xious
to know what we had escaped from.
"Thehut "said the old hunter, twas
occupied DER 81 years agone by the laird
of Knockeranie, the eighth of the name.
On his young wife dying he betook
himself and his infant daughter to it.
He furnished it from the castle. Then
he shut himself out from the world.
No one ever saw him, but when his
daughter got to be guild pert girl she
used to be beard singing, tho few e'er
cast eyes on her. 1t was said that the
laird had mickle gowd hid in the hut,
and one night robbers broke in, killed
the daughter and her father after almost
burning his feet off trying to make him
tell where his money was hid. A horse
and his rider were found drowned in
the marsh next morning, and they do
say he was one of the murderers. for
blood stains the water could not remove
were OH his clothes. He is said to haunt
the marsh yet, SOS to bring lost folks
to the hut whar the murder was, and
whoever entefS the door is never seen
again.
1 tell the story as it happened. Wheth-
sr we were suffering from temporary
alteration, caused by the germs of a
fever that laid US low for many days, I
leave for others to decide, but Hugh
and I often gaze in awe at the old DRESS
ing gowns we still possess, the relics of
that terrible night. We're V. Hunt IN
Chicago Tribune.