Billy sat down at the table and without a word fell to. Stanhope stood beside the window, humming a tune, a smile on his face. He roused himself from his musing, as Billy scraped back his chair. "Full up?" he asked.,
And now he was back again; and this time he did not intend to risk his life in those sucking sands. From a couple of dead saplings, with the aid of wild grape-vines, he fashioned a light raft which would serve as a support in the bog, and carry his weight in the putrid mire beyond. Strange sounds came to his ears as he worked his way across the desolate waste toward the first great pond—scurrying, rustling sounds of hidden things aroused from their security. Once a big grey snake stirred from torpor to lift its head and hiss at him. Billy lifted it aside with his pole and went on.,
"Hist," he whispered and Billy and Maurice felt their flesh creep. "Ut's hear that swishin' av feet above, ye do? Ut's the Black troup houldin' their course 'twixt the seared earth an' the storm. The witches of Ballyclue, ut is, an' whin they be out on their mad run the ghoste av dead min hould wild carnival. Ut'll be needin' that rabbit-fut sure we wull, if the ha'nted grove we enter this night.".
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