Part 14 (1/2)

But it was so that they were married wid Satan fur a witness, an' some says the saint thransported thim to Kerry through the air, but 't isn't meself that belaves that same, but that they walked to Kilrush an' wint to Kerry in a fisherman's boat.

”Afther they'd shtarted, the saint turns to Satan an' says, 'No more av yer thricks wid them two, me fine felly, fur I mane to give you a job that'll kape ye out av mischief fur wan time at laste,' fur he was mightily vexed wid him a-comin' that-a-way right into his cave the same as if the place belonged to him.

”'Go you to work,' says he, 'an' put yer face on the rock over the shpring, so that as long as the mountain shtands min can come an' see phat sort av a dirthy lookin' baste ye are.'

”So Satan wint out an' looked up at the rock, shmilin', as fur to say that was no great matther, an' whin the blessed man seen the grin that was on him, he says, 'None av yer inchantmints will I have at all, at all. It's honest work ye'll do, an' be the same token, here's me own hammer an'

chisel that ye'll take,' an' wid that the divil looked mighty sarious, an'

left aff grinnin' for he parsaived the clift was granite.

”'Sure it's jokin' yer Riverince is,' says he, 'ye don't mane it. Sorra the harder bit av shtone bechuxt this an' Donegal,' an' it was thrue for him, fur he knewn the coast well.

”'Bad luck to the taste av a lie's in it,' says the saint. 'So take yer waypons an' go at it, owld Buck-an'-Whey, fur the sooner ye begin, the quicker ye'll be done, an' the shtone won't soften be yer watin'. Mind ye kape a civil tongue in yer head while ye're at the job, or it'll be a holiday to the wan I'll find ye,' says he, lookin' at him very fierce.

”So wid great displazemint, Satan tuk the hammer an' chisel, an' climbed up an' wint to work a cuttin' his own face on the shtone, an' it was as hard as iron it was, an whin he'd hit it a couple av cracks, he shtopped an' shuck his head an' thin scratched over his year wid the chisel an'

looked round at the saint as fur to say somethin', but the blessed saint looked at him agin so fayroshus, that he made no raimark at all, but turned back to the clift quick an' begun to hammer away in airnest till the shweat shtud on his haythenish face like the dhrops on a wather-jug.

”On the next day, Lord Robert thought he'd call the owld Inimy, an' remind him that, bein' as he'd failed to get Kathleen, their bargain was aff. So he made the charm Satan gev him, but he didn't come fur anny thrial he'd make.

”'Bad scran to the Imp,' says he. 'Sure he must be mighty busy or maybe he's forgot entirely.'

”So he out an' wint to see the witch, but she wasn't in, an' while he was waitin' for her, bein' not far away from the saint's cave, he thought he'd have a peep, an' see if Tim an' Kathleen were shtill there. So he crawled over the top o' the hill beyant the cave like the sarpint that he was, an'

whin he come down a little, he seen the owld Pooka on the clift, wid the hammer in wan hand an' the chisel in the other a poundin' away at the rock an' hangin' on be his tail to a tree. Lord Robert thought the eyes 'ud lave his head, fur he seen it was the divil sure enough, but he cudn't rightly make out phat he was doin'. So he crawled down till he seen, an'

thin, whin he undhershtood, he riz an' come an' took a sate on a big shtone ferninst the clift, a shlappin' his legs wid his hands, an' roarin'

an' the wather bilin' out av his eyes wid laughin'.

”'Hilloo Nickey,' says he, when he'd got his breath agin an' cud shpake.

'Is it yerself that's in it?' Mind the impidince av him, shpakin' that familiar to the inimy av our sowls, but faix, he'd a tongue like a jewsharp, an' cud use it too.

”'Kape from me,' says Satan to him agin, as cra.s.s as two shticks, an'

widout turnin' his head fur to raigard him. 'Lave me! Begorra, I'll wipe the clift aff wid yer carkidge if ye come anny closter,' says he.

”'A-a-a-h, woorroo, now. Aisey, ye desayvin' owld blaggard,' says Lord Robert, as bowld as a ram, fur he knewn that Satan daren't lave the job to come at him. 'Will ye kape yer timper? Sure ye haven't the manners av a goat, to be shpakin' to a gintleman like that. I've just come to tell ye that bein' ye failed, our bargain 's aff,' says he.

”'Out wid ye,' says the divil, turnin' half round an' howldin' be wan hand to the big shtone nose he'd just done, an' shakin' the other fist wid the chisel in it at Lord Robert. 'D' ye think I want to be aggervated wid the likes av ye, ye whey-faced shpalpeen, an' me losin' the whole day, an'

business pressin' at this saison, an' breakin' me back on the job, an' me fingers sore wid the chisel, an' me tail shkinned wid howldin' on? Bad luck to the shtone, it's harder than a Scotchman's head, it is, so it is,'

says he, turnin' back agin when he seen the saint at the dure av the cave.

An' thin he begun a peckin' away at the clift fur dear life, shwearin' to himself, so the saint cudn't hear him, every time he give his knuckles an onlucky crack wid the hammer.

”'Ye're not worth the throuble,' says he to Lord Robert; he was that full av rage he cudn't howld in. 'It's a paltherin' gossoon I was fur thriflin'

wid ye whin I was sure av ye annyhow.'

”'Yer a liar,' says Lord Robert, 'ye desaivin' nagurly Haythen. If ye was sure o' me phat did ye want to make a bargain fur?'

”'Yer another,' says Satan. 'Isn't a sparrer in yer hand betther than a goose on a shtring?'

”So they were goin' on wid the blaggardin' match, whin the blessed saint, that come out whin he heard thim begin, an' thin set on the dure a-watchin', to see that owld Nick didn't schamp the job, interfared.