Moor View Farm had taken a battering. Just as Alice had described, the yard was full of stones and almost every pane of glass had been smashed. The kitchen window was the only one still intact. The front door was locked but the Spook used his key and had it open in seconds. We searched for the Hursts and found them cowering in the cellar; of the boggart there was no sign at all.
The Spook wasted no time.
'You'll have to leave here right away' he told the old farmer and his wife. 'I'm afraid there's nothing else for it. Just pack essentials and get yourselves gone. Leave me to do what's necessary.'
'But where will we go?' Mrs Hurst asked, close to tears.
'If you stay, I can't guarantee your lives' the Spook told them bluntly. 'You've relatives down in Adlington. They'll have to take you in.'
'How long before we can come back?' asked Mr Hurst. He was worried about his livelihood.
'Three days at the most' answered the Spook. 'But don't worry about the farm. My lad'll do what's necessary.'
While they packed, my master ordered me to do as many of the farm chores as possible. Everything was quiet: no stones were falling and it seemed that the boggart was resting. So, making the best of that situation, I started by milking the cows; it was nearly dark by the time I'd finished. When I walked into the kitchen, the Spook was sitting at the table alone. 'Where's Alice?' I asked.
'Gone with the Hursts, where else? We can't have a girl getting under our feet when there's a boggart to be dealt with.'
I was really tired so I didn't bother to argue with him. I'd just half hoped that Alice would have been allowed to stay.
'Sit yourself down and take that glum look off your face, lad. It's enough to turn the milk sour. We need to be ready'
'Where's the boggart now?' I asked.
The Spook shrugged. 'Resting under a tree or a big boulder, I suppose. Now that it's dark it won't be long before it arrives. Boggarts can be active in daylight and, as we found to our cost up on the fell, will certainly defend themselves if provoked. But night is their favourite time and when they're at their strongest.
'If it is the same boggart we met up at Stone Farm, then things are likely to get rough. For one thing it'll remember us as soon as it gets close and it'll want revenge for what we did. Breaking windows and knocking a few chimney pots down won't be enough. It'll try to smash this farmhouse to the ground with us inside it. So it'll be a fight to the finish. Anyway, lad, cheer up,' he said, catching a glimpse of my worried face. 'It's an old house but it's built of good County stone on very strong foundations. Most boggarts are even more stupid than they look, so we're not dead yet. What we need to do is weaken it further. I'll offer myself as a target. When I've sapped its strength, you finish it off with salt and iron, so get your pockets filled, lad, and be ready!'
I'd used that old salt and iron trick myself when I'd faced the old witch, Mother Malkin. The two combined substances were very effective against the dark. Salt would burn the boggart; iron would bleed away its power.
So I did as my master instructed, filling my pockets from the pouches of salt and iron that he kept in his bag.
Just before midnight the boggart attacked. A big storm had been brewing for hours and the first distant rumbles had given way to crashes of thunder overhead and flashes of sheet lightning. We were both in the kitchen, sitting at the table, when it happened.
'Here it comes,' muttered the Spook, his voice so low that he seemed to be talking more to himself than to me.
He was right: a couple of seconds later the boggart came ranting and raving down the fell and rushed at the farmhouse. It sounded as if a river had burst its banks and a flood was racing towards us.
The kitchen window blew in, scattering shards of glass everywhere, and the back door bulged inwards as if some great weight were leaning against it. Then the whole house shook like a tree in a storm, leaning first one way, then the other. I know that sounds impossible but I swear it happened.
Next there was a ripping and popping noise overhead and the tiles began to fly off the roof and crash down into the farmyard. Then for a few seconds everything became quiet and still, as if the boggart were resting or thinking what to do next.
'Time to get this over with, lad,' said the Spook. 'You stay here and watch through the window. Things'll turn nasty out there for sure.'
I thought things were pretty nasty already, but I didn't say so.
'At all costs, whatever happens,' continued my master, 'don't go outside. Only use the salt and iron when the boggart comes into the kitchen. If you use it outside in this weather he won't get the full impact. I'll lure the boggart inside. So be ready'
The Spook unlocked the door and, carrying his staff, went out into the farmyard. He was the bravest man I'd ever met. I certainly wouldn't have liked to face that boggart in the dark.
It was pitch black out there, and in the kitchen all the candles had blown out. Being plunged into total darkness was the last thing I wanted, but fortunately we still had a lantern. I brought it near to the window but it didn't cast much light out into the yard. The Spook was some distance away so I still couldn't see all of what was happening and had to rely on flashes of lightning.
I heard the Spook rap three times with his staff on the flags; then, with a howl, the boggart flew at him, rushing across the farmyard from left to right. Next there was a cry of pain and a sound just like a branch snapping. When the lightning flashed again, I saw the Spook on his knees, his hands held up in front of him, trying to protect his head. His staff lay on the flags some distance from him, broken into three pieces.