The Pillion Lady

It was on a beautiful night in the middle of summer that Humphrey
Dobson, after having transacted a day's business at Garstang market,
and passed some mirthful hours with a number of jovial young fellows
in the best parlour of the Ffrances Arms, with its oak furniture and
peacock feathers, mounted his steady-going mare, and set off for home.
He had got some distance from the little town, and was rapidly nearing
a point where the road crossed a stream said to be haunted by the
spirit of a female who had been murdered many years back; and although
the moon was shining brightly, and the lonely rider could see far
before him, there was one dark spot overshadowed by trees a little in
advance which Humphrey feared to reach. He felt a thrill of terror as
he suddenly remembered the many strange stories told of the headless
woman whose sole occupation and delight seemed to be that of
terrifying travellers; but, with a brave endeavour to laugh off his
fears, he urged his horse forward, and attempted to troll forth the
burden of an old song:--

'He rode and he rode till he came to the dooar,
And Nell came t' oppen it, as she'd done afooar:
"Come, get off thy horse," she to him did say,
"An' put it i'th' stable, an' give it some hay."'

It would not do, however; and suddenly he put spurs to the mare and
galloped towards the little bridge. No sooner did the horse's hoofs
ring upon the stones than Humphrey heard a weird and unearthly laugh
from beneath the arch, and, as the animal snorted and bounded forward,
the young fellow felt an icy arm glide round his waist and a light
pressure against his back. Drops of perspiration fell from his brow,
and his heart throbbed wildly, but he did not dare to look behind lest
his worst fears should be verified, and he should behold 'th' boggart
o'th' bruk.'

As though conscious of its ghastly burden, the old mare ran as she
never had run before; the hedgerows and trees seemed to fly past,
while sparks streamed from the flints in the road, and in an
incredibly short space of time the farm-house was reached.
Instinctively, Humphrey tried to guide the mare into the yard, but his
efforts were powerless, for the terrified animal had got the bit in
her teeth, and away she sped past the gateway.

As the rider was thus borne away, another sepulchral laugh broke the
silence, but this time it sounded so close to the horseman's ear that
he involuntarily looked round.

He found that the figure, one of whose arms was twined round his
waist, was not the headless being of whom he had heard so many fearful
narratives, but another and a still more terrible one, for, grinning
in a dainty little hood, and almost touching his face, there was a
ghastly skull, with eyeless sockets, and teeth gleaming white in the
clear moonlight.

Petrified by fear, he could not turn his head away, and, as the mare
bore him rapidly along, ever and anon a horrid derisive laugh sounded
in his ears as for a moment the teeth parted and then closed with a
sudden snap. Terrified as he was, however, he noticed that the arm
which encircled his body gradually tightened around him, and putting
down his hand to grasp it he found it was that of a fleshless
skeleton.

How long he rode thus embraced by a spectre he knew not, but it seemed
an age.

Suddenly, however, as at a turn in the road the horse stumbled and
fell, Humphrey, utterly unprepared for any such occurrence, was thrown
over the animal's head and stunned by the fall.

When he recovered full consciousness it was daybreak. The sun was
rising, the birds were singing in the branching foliage overhead, and
the old mare was quietly grazing at a distance. With great difficulty,
for he was faint through loss of blood, and lame, he got home and told
his story. There were several stout men about the farm who professed
to disbelieve it, and pretended to laugh at the idea of a skeleton
horsewoman, who, without saying with your leave or by your leave, had
ridden pillion with the young master, but it was somewhat remarkable
that none of them afterwards could be induced to cross the bridge over
the haunted stream after 'th' edge o' dark.'