Then their horrified eyes beheld the figure of an undoubted Being hazily outlined behind the cloud, and at the same time the piper, as if sympathetically aware of the crisis, burst into his most dreadful discords.

A yell rang through the gloom, followed by the sounds of a heavy body alternately scuffling across the floor and falling prostrate over unseen furniture.

The Baron felt for his host, and realized that this was the escaping Gallosh.
"Tulliwuddle! Speak!" a hollow voice muttered out of the smoke.
The Baron has never ceased to exult over the hardihood he displayed in this unnerving crisis.

Rising to his feet and drawing his claymore, he actually managed to stammer out-- "Who--who are you ?" The Being (he could now perceive dimly that it was clad in tartan) answered in the same deep, measured voice-- "Your senses to confound and fuddle, Behold the Wraith of Tulliwuddle!" This was sufficiently terrifying, one would think, to excuse the Baron for following the example of his host.

But, though he found afterwards that he must have perspired freely, he courageously stood his ground.
"Vy have you gomed here ?" he demanded in a voice nearly as hollow as the Wraith.
As solemnly as before the spirit replied-- "From Pit that's bottomless and dark-- Methinks I hear it shrieking--Hark!" (The Baron certainly did hear a tumult that might well be termed infernal; though whether it emanated from Mr.Gallosh, fiends, or the piper, he could not at the moment feel certain.) "I came o'er many leagues of heather To carry back the answer whether The noble chieftain of my clan Conducts him like a gentleman." After this warning, to put the third question required an effort of the most supreme resolution.