“Rich is it? Sure an’ it’s him as has plinty. He could lave this place if he chose an’ settle in Galway—aye or in Dublin itself if he liked betther, and lind money to big min—landlords an’ the like—instead iv playin’ wid poor min here an’ swallyin’ them up, wan be wan.—But he can’t go! He can’t go!” This he said with a vengeful light in his eyes; I turned to Andy for explanation. “Can’t go! How does he mean? What does he mean?” “Whisht! Don’t ax me. Ax Dan, there. He doesn’t owe him any money!” “Which is Dan?” “The ould man there be the settle what has just spoke, Dan Moriarty. He’s a warrum man, wid money[Pg 29] in bank an’ what owns his houldin’; an’ he’s not afeerd to have his say about Murdock.” [Pg 29] “Can any of you tell me why Murdock can’t leave the Hill?” I spoke out. “Begor’ I can,” said Dan, quickly. “He can’t lave it because the Hill houlds him!” “What on earth do you mean? How can the Hill hold him?” “It can hould tight enough! There may be raysons that a man gives—sometimes wan thing, an’ sometimes another; but the Hill houlds—an’ houlds tight all the same!” Here the door was opened suddenly, and the fire blazed up with the rush of wind that entered. All stood up suddenly, for the new comer was a priest. He was a sturdy man of middle age, with a cheerful countenance. Sturdy as he was, however, it took him all his strength to shut the door, but he succeeded before any of the men could get near enough to help him. Then he turned and saluted all the company:— “God save all here.” All present tried to do him some service. One took his wet great coat, another his dripping hat, and a third pressed him into the warmest seat in the chimney corner, where, in a very few seconds, Mrs. Kelligan handed him a steaming glass of punch, saying, “Dhrink that up, yer Riv’rence. ’Twill help to kape ye from catchin’ cowld.” “Thank ye, kindly,” he answered, as he took it. When he had half emptied the glass, he said:— [Pg 30] [Pg 30] “What was it I heard as I came in about the Hill holding some
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