and because of what he had done, he was called Allister MacLeod no
more, but Sir Worm Wymble. And when he died," concluded Kirsty, "he
was buried under the tomb in your father's church. And if you look
close enough, you'll find a wimble carved on the stone, but I'm afraid
it's worn out by this time."



CHAPTER XI

The Kelpie


Silence followed the close of Kirsty's tale. Wee Davie had taken no
harm, for he was fast asleep with his head on her bosom. Allister was
staring into the fire, fancying he saw the whorls of the wimble
heating in it. Turkey was cutting at his stick with a blunt
pocket-knife, and a silent whistle on his puckered lips. I was sorry
the story was over, and was growing stupid under the reaction from its
excitement. I was, however, meditating a strict search for the wimble
carved on the knight's tomb. All at once came the sound of a latch
lifted in vain, followed by a thundering at the outer door, which
Kirsty had prudently locked. Allister, Turkey, and I started to our
feet, Allister with a cry of dismay, Turkey grasping his stick.

"It's the kelpie!" cried Allister.

But the harsh voice of the old witch followed, something deadened by
the intervening door.