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- Джон Бакен
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David
was
less
superstitious
than
most
men
,
but
he
had
too
ready
a
fancy
and
a
mind
too
well
stored
with
learning
to
be
easy
at
the
thought
.
Already
he
felt
that
he
had
found
an
antagonist
.
Was
Woodilee
to
prove
a
frontier
-
post
for
God
’
s
servant
against
the
horrid
mysteries
of
heathendom
?
.
.
.
He
gave
a
sudden
start
,
for
a
voice
had
sounded
behind
him
.
The
voice
was
singing
-
-
a
charm
against
bogles
which
he
remembered
himself
using
as
a
child
:
"
Weary
,
Ovie
,
gang
awa
’
,
Haste
ye
furth
o
’
house
an
’
ha
’
,
Ower
the
muir
and
doun
the
burn
,
Wearie
,
Ovie
,
ne
’
er
return
.
"
A
grotesque
figure
emerged
from
the
dusk
.
It
was
a
tall
fellow
,
who
seemed
to
have
been
broken
in
the
middle
,
for
he
walked
almost
doubled
up
.
His
face
,
seen
in
the
half
-
light
,
was
that
of
a
man
of
thirty
or
so
,
with
a
full
black
beard
and
red
protuberant
lips
.
His
clothes
were
ruinous
,
an
old
leather
jerkin
which
gaped
at
every
seam
,
ragged
small
-
clothes
of
frieze
,
and
for
hosen
a
wrapping
of
dirty
clouts
.
There
were
no
shoes
on
his
feet
,
and
his
unwashed
face
was
dark
as
a
berry
.
In
his
hand
he
had
a
long
ash
pole
,
and
on
his
head
a
blue
cowl
so
tight
that
it
was
almost
a
skull
-
cap
.
David
recognized
the
figure
for
Daft
Gibbie
,
the
village
natural
,
who
had
greeted
him
with
mewing
and
shouting
at
his
ordination
.
In
the
clachan
street
he
had
seemed
an
ordinary
deformed
idiot
-
-
what
was
known
locally
as
an
"
object
"
-
-
but
up
on
this
twilight
hilltop
he
was
like
an
uncouth
revenant
from
an
older
world
.
The
minister
instinctively
gripped
his
staff
tighter
,
but
Gibbie
’
s
intention
was
of
the
friendliest
.
"
A
braw
guid
e
’
en
to
ye
,
Mr
.
Sempill
,
sir
.
I
saw
ye
tak
’
the
hill
and
I
bode
to
follow
,
for
I
was
wantin
’
to
bid
ye
welcome
to
Woodilee
.
Man
,
ye
gang
up
the
brae
-
face
like
a
maukin
[
a
hare
]
.
Ower
fast
,
I
says
to
mysel
’
,
ower
fast
for
a
man
o
’
God
,
for
what
saith
the
Word
,
’
He
that
believeth
shall
not
make
haste
!
’
"
