When we came back, everything was gone. A few had escaped
to the bogs, where they could not be followed; the rest was, every
mother's son of them, killed by those murdering villains. Your honour may
guess what we felt, when we got back. Thank God I had no children! We
buried the wife in the garden behind the house, and then started away and
joined a band of rapparees, and paid some of them back in their own coin.
Then, one day, the Enniskilleners fell on us, and most of us were killed.
Then we made our way back to the old village, and came up here and built
us this hut. It's a wonder to us how you got here; for there are bogs
stretching away in all directions, and how you made your way through them
bates us entirely."
"Yours is a sad story, but unfortunately a common one. And how have you
managed to live here?"
"There are plenty of potatoes, for the digging of 'em," the man said,
"for there are a score of ruined villages within a day's walk. As for
meat, there are cattle for the taking, wandering all over the country;
some have lately strayed away; but among the hills there are herds which
have run wild since the days when Cromwell made the country a desert. As
for spirits, I brew them myself. Barley as well as potatoes may be had
for the taking.
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