"And why did they leave?"

"Well, mam, by all accounts they left because they had to. The folk
round could thole them no longer, so they just up and burned the fort
aboot their lugs. You can see the fire marks on the stanes."

The woman gave a quick little shudder. "A wild night--a fearsome
night," said she. "The sky must have been red that night--and these
grey stones, they may have been red also."

"Aye, I think they were red," said her husband. "It's a queer thing,
Maggie, and it may be your words that have done it; but I seem to see
that business aboot as clear as ever I saw anything in my life.
The light shone on the water."

"Aye, the light shone on the water. And the smoke gripped you by the
throat. And all the savages were yelling."

The old farmer began to laugh. "The leddy will be writin' a story aboot
the old fort," said he. "I've shown many a one over it, but I never
heard it put so clear afore. Some folk have the gift."

They had strolled along the edge of the foss, and a pit yawned upon the
right of them.

"That pit was fourteen foot deep," said the farmer. "What d'ye think we
dug oot from the bottom o't? Weel, it was just the skeleton of a man
wi' a spear by his side. I'm thinkin' he was grippin' it when he died.
Now, how cam' a man wi' a spear doon a hole fourteen foot deep?
He wasna' buried there, for they aye burned their dead. What make ye o'