t; he left it behind him."

"Well, thin, I'll put the shawl round me own shoulders, for it's cowld
I am. Are ya hungray, childer?"

"No," said Dick, "but I'm direfully slapy?"

"Slapy, is it? Well, down you get in the bottom of the boat, and here's
the shawl for a pilla. I'll be rowin' again in a minit to keep meself
warm."

He buttoned the top button of the coat.

"I'm a'right," murmured Emmeline in a dreamy voice.

"Shut your eyes tight," replied Mr Button, "or Billy Winker will be
dridgin' sand in them.

`Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen,
Sho-hu-lo, sho-hu-lo.
Shoheen, shoheen, shoheen, shoheen,
Hush a by the babby O.'"

It was the tag of an old nursery folk-song they sing in the hovels of
the Achill coast fixed in his memory, along with the rain and the wind
and the smell of the burning turf, and the grunting of the pig and the
knickety-knock of a rocking cradle.

"She's off," murmured Mr Button to himself, as the form in his arms
relaxed. Then he laid her gently down beside Dick. He shifted forward,
moving like a crab. Then he put his hand to his pocket for his pipe and
tobacco and tinder box. They were in his coat pocket, but Emmeline was
in his coat. To search for them would be to awaken her.

The darkness of night was now adding itself to the blindness of the
fog. The oarsman could not see even the thole pins. He sat adrift mind
and body. He was, to use his own expression, "moithered." Haunted by
the mist, tormented by "shapes."

It was just in a fog like this that the Merrows could be heard
disporting in Dunbeg bay, and off the Achill coast. Sporting and
laughing, and hallooing through the mist, to lead unfortunate fishermen
astray.

Merrows are not altogether evil, but they have green hair and teeth,
fishes' tails and fins for arms; and to hear them walloping in the
water around you like salmon, and you alone in a small boat, with the
dread of one coming floundering on board, is enough to turn a man's
hair grey.

For a moment he thought of awakening the children to keep him company,
but he was ashamed. Then he took to the sculls again, and rowed "by the
feel of the water." The creak of the oars was like a companion's voice,
the exercise lulled his fears. Now and again, forgetful of the sleeping
children, he gave a halloo, and paused to listen. But no answer came.

Then he continued rowing, long, steady, laborious strokes, each taking
him further and further from the boats that he