"
"An iron pot, Kirsty?" asked Allister.
"No, goosey," answered Kirsty. "A pot means a great hole full of
water--black, black, and deep, deep."
"Oh!" remarked Allister, and was silent.
"Well, in this pot there lived a kelpie."
"What's a kelpie, Kirsty?" again interposed Allister, who in general
asked all the necessary questions and at least as many unnecessary.
"A kelpie is an awful creature that eats people."
"But what is it like, Kirsty?"
"It's something like a horse, with a head like a cow."
"How big is it? As big as Hawkie?"
"Bigger than Hawkie; bigger than the biggest ox you ever saw."
"Has it a great mouth?"
"Yes, a terrible mouth."
"With teeth?"
"Not many, but dreadfully big ones."
"Oh!"
"Well, there was a shepherd many years ago, who lived not far from the
pot. He was a knowing man, and understood all about kelpies and
brownies and fairies. And he put a branch of the rowan-tree
(_mountain-ash_), with the red berries in it, over the door of his
cottage, so that the kelpie could never come in.
"Now, the shepherd had a very beautiful daughter--so beautiful that
the kelpie wanted very much to eat her. I suppose he had lifted up his
head out of the pot some day and seen her go past, but he could not
come out of the pot except after the sun was down."
"Why?" asked Allister.
"I don't know. It was the nature of the beast.
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