256 AN ANGLER'S SEASON 



say that It was watching us were it not 

 that It seemed to be without a head. 

 Otherwise the figure was that of a man. 

 The outlines were perfectly clear. The 

 dress was what is called " a lounge suit," 

 and the hands were in the pockets of the 

 coat. Withal, It had an aspect of 

 unreality. It did not seem substantial. 

 It was but a figure of light at the best ; 

 not glaring light ; dim, indeed, or at least 

 strangely soft ; white, with a delicate stain 

 of blue ; and, gazing intently, I saw, or 

 fancied, that it flickered. 



" It cam' oot o' Peter's hoose," John 

 muttered. 



" Who or what can It be ? " 



" I ha'e my ain idees ; but I'd rayther 

 no' say. Only, ye may mind what I tell't 

 ye aboot wha plays pranks wi' Peter. 

 I'm no' for namin' him the noo." 



You may think that my observa- 

 tions and this dialogue were singularly 

 deliberate. So they were. I found 

 myself astonished at them. They 

 occupied less than a minute, however ; 



