owever；　quietly　enough；　not　staying　to　look　up；　with　strange　pretercanine　eyes；　in　my　face；　as　I　half　expected　it　would。　The　horse　followed；—a　tall　steed；　and　on　its　back　a　rider。　The　man；　the　human　being；　broke　the　spell　at　once。　Nothing　ever　rode　the　Gytrash：　it　was　always　alone；　and　goblins；　to　my　notions；　though　they　might　tenant　the　dumb　carcasses　of　beasts；　could　scarce　covet　shelter　in　the　monplace　human　form。　No　Gytrash　was　this；—only　a　traveller　taking　the　short　cut　to　Millcote。　He　passed；　and　I　went　on；　a　few　steps；　and　I　turned：　a　sliding　sound　and　an　exclamation　of　“What　the　deuce　is　to　do　now？”　and　a　clattering　tumble；　arrested　my　attention。　Man　and　horse　were　down；　they　had　slipped　on　the　sheet　of　ice　which　glazed　the　causeway。　The　dog　came　bounding　back；　and　seeing　his　master　in　a　predicament；　and　hearing　the　horse　groan；　barked　till　the　evening　hills　echoed　the　sound；　which　was　deep　in　proportion　to　his　magnitude。　He　snuffed　round　the　prostrate　group；　and　then　he　ran　up　to　me；　it　was　all　he　could　do；—there　was　no　other　help　at　hand　to　summon。　I　obeyed　him；　and　walked　down　to　the　traveller；　by　this　time　struggling　himself　free　of　his　steed。　His　efforts　were　so　vigorous；　I　thought　he　could　not　be　much　hurt；　but　I　asked　him　the　question—

“Are　you　injured；　sir？”

I　think　he　was　swearing；　but　am　not　certain；　however；　he　was　pronouncing　some　formula　which　prevented　him　from　replying　to　me　directly。

“Can　I　do　anything？”　I　asked　again。

“You