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A moan or sigh from it on the safe side of the Carter Bar would scatter a party of Scottish reivers across the moorland as no English army could have done. Any belated horseman riding out of the dark would take the heart out of the most valiant of Northumbrians because they feared that they saw "Parcy Reed." Not always in the same form did the Keeper appear. That was the terror of it.
'Na, na, I'm awa, replied the ancient herd, rising as he spoke; 'it's gettin' late, an' I dinna want to run the risk o' meetin' wi' "Parcy" on my way hame. 'Parcy! exclaimed the visitor, raising himself in surprise from his arm-chair. 'Parcy, the ghost o' the murdered mosstrooper, d' ye mean, that the old wives talked of? D' ye mean to tell me ye still believe in ghosts up here?
It is a fact that Parcy was not always so spelled, for Noble Constantin Thiehault, Sieur de Perrecey, was a witness to the treaty for the transference of a miraculous host from Faverney to Dôle in 1608, and old maps and books give it as Perrecey and Parrecey indifferently.
'I'se haud ye a wager ye winna walk doon the burn the morrow nicht at the deid hour, past the stane where "Parcy" was slain, and up on beyond the kirkyaird, and on tae the manse. Maybe it's a mile, an' to-morrow's the nicht o' Hallow E'en when the deid walk.
The next division may be termed semi-historical; that is, they treat of events which actually happened, but which have chiefly a local interest; and these may therefore be said to be more truly Northumbrian than any others. Such are "Jock o' the Side," "Johnnie Armstrong," "Hobbie Noble" and "The Death of Parcy Reed."
Clinging to his benefactor, Elliot rose to his feet and stumbled forward as swiftly as his shaking limbs permitted. 'Whaur is he? he inquired tremulously, keeking about fearfully. 'Wha d' ye mean? replied the Minister. 'Is 't "Parcy" ye hae seen? 'Waur nor that; waur nor that, replied the other. 'I believe 'twas him. 'Anither fifty yards an' we'll be hame, said the Minister.
'It fleys folk fine an' stirs up their conscience graund. I aince thocht I caught a keek o' "Parcy" mysel', but I wasna muckle gliffed, for though I ken fine I'm a sinner, I've naethin' particular on my conscience. 'Mind ye, I dinna ken whether 'twas a wraith I saw or no for I'd been first footin', ye ken, an' maybe I had a wee drappie i' my e'e.
The appointed night came, and ere they started in the uncertain light of a misty moon the keeper of Redesdale supped at Girsonfield. "Ye're loaded, are ye, Parcy?" asked the genial host in the burring Northumbrian voice we know so well even to-day. "I'll give a look to our primings while ye drink a stirrup-cup." More than a look he gave.
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