e countenances for the most
part dark and primitive, the type more of Firbolg than Milesian origin.

When the Friar spoke to them they paused, shuffled, looked at each
other, puzzled. Half unconsciously I repeated the priest's words for
them.

"Oh, you are heading for the house where Kevin Hooban is lying sick?"

"Yes."

"The priest is going to read over him?"

"Yes."

"And maybe they are expecting him?"

"Yes."

"We heard it said he is very low, a strangeness coming over him."

"Is the house far?"

"No, not too far when you are once a-past the demesne wall, with the ivy
upon it. Keep on the straight road. You will come to a stream and a
gullet and a road clipping into the hills from it to the right; go past
that road. West of that you will see two poplar trees. Beyond them you
will come to a boreen. Turn down that boreen; it is very narrow, and you
had best turn up one side of the car and both sit together, or maybe the
thorny hedges would be slashing you on the face in the darkness of the
place. At the end of the boreen you will come to a shallow river, and it
having a shingle bottom. Put the mare to it and across with you. Will
you be able to remember all that?"

"Yes, thanks."

"Very well. Listen now. When you are across the river with the shingly
bottom draw up on the back meadow. You will see a light shining to the
north. Let one bawl out of you and Patch Keetly will be at hand to take
the mare by the head. He will bring you to the house where Kevin Hooban
is lying in his trouble. And God grant, Father, that you will be able to
reach out a helping hand to him, and to put your strength in holy words
between him and them that has a hold of him; he is a fine young man
without fault or blemish, and the grandest maker of music that ever put
a lip to the fideog. Keep an eye out for the poplar trees."

"Very good. God be with you."

"God speed you kindly."

We drove on. As we did so we tried to piece the directions together. The
two poplar trees appeared to touch some curious strain of humour in the
Spanish Friar. But it all came to pass as the prophet had spoken. We
came to the ivy wall, to the stream, the gullet, the road that clipped
into the hills to the right, and a long way beyond it the two poplar
trees, tall, shadowy, great in their loneliness on the hills, sentinels
that appeared to guard some mountain frontier. The light had rapidly
gone. The whole landscape had swooned away into a vague, da