THE FAIRIES: THE STORY  

From The East of Arran by A. Boyd Scott.

Once upon a time, Archie M’Millan was driving home in his cart from the mill at Monamor in Lamlash, to Whiting Bay. The day was dusky when he passed by the gamekeepers above the loch and the pine wood that is there. But the road is clear and open along the hill, and Archie had no thought in his head of anything but his own fireside and the good porridge that would be steaming beneath his nose when he got home. However that may be, he told me that some bird hooted in the pine trees as he went past. It might be an owl, or a wild doo it might be, but is was an uncanny note it gave, and Archie flapped the reins on the mare’s back, and the mare put her best foot foremost.

Now there is an eerie bit on the road further on, as you may know, and that is to be sure, where it goes down the brae to the stone bridge over the Auchencairn Burn (Kingscross Burn?). Maybe you have climbed up the parapet and seen the little maiden hair ferns growing on the grey face of the bridge, and far below, the black water and the glistening rocks. Well now then, down the brae came Archie, and the light of the day faded away as he came down to the dark bridge. He told me that sure as a gun that something would happen in that very same place, but on he went, for he was as brave as a lion at most times, although this was a by-ordinary time. Well lo and behold, the mare stopped dead! And would anything make her go on? – no! She would not budge, though Archie coaxed her, and then said two or three good curses on her, and tugged the reins, and brought down his whip upon her. And I would say, little wonder she would not budge a bit, but stood there in a quake and a cold sweat; for there on the bridge before his eyes Archie saw a light that could be no earthly light or heavenly either, for it was a quiet blue flame like a corpse-light. Forbye that, which was terrible enough. a pale figure stood by the light, like a maiden in form and winsome enough in shape, but of a deadly beauty. Archie told me he felt the cold fear creep up his backbone and stand up his hair like bristles. But he was as brave as a lion even in this horrible plight, and though his mouth was as dry as a kiln, he was able to cry out, “On I will go, I will go on, I tell ye, though I drive horse and cart to the Bottomless Pit!” and he laid on the mare with his whip when he cried it.

Upon that very word, out went the light, just as if you had puffed out a candle, and the Fay maiden melted away like a puff of mist over a dyke on the hill. On went the mare with Archie, and he was panting for breath, and trembling from head to heel, not knowing what would happen at the very bridge itself. However, no evil befel them at all as they hastened past, you will be glad to know. But he told me that just as he got round to the bridge to the left, he heard a splash in the burn far down below, like the sound of a great monster slipping back again into the water.