The word was hardly out of his mouth, when he heard the sound of many voices, and the trampling of feet on the road before him. "I don't know who can be out so late at night as this, and on such a lonely road," said he to himself. He stood listening, and he heard the voices of many people talking through other, but he could not understand what they were saying. "Oh, wirra!" says he, "I'm afraid. It's not Irish or English they have; it can't be they're Frenchmen!" He went on a couple of yards further, and he saw well enough by the light of the moon a band of little people coming towards him, and they were carrying something big and heavy with them. "Oh, murder!" says he to himself, "sure it can't be that they're the good people that's in it!" Every _rib_ of hair that was on his head stood up, and there fell a shaking on his bones, for he saw that they were coming to him fast. He looked at them again, and perceived that there were about twenty little men in it, and there was not a man at all of them higher than about three feet or three feet and a half, and some of them were grey, and seemed very old. He looked again, but he could not make out what was the heavy thing they were carrying until they came up to him, and then they all stood round about him. They threw the heavy thing down on the road, and he saw on the spot that it was a dead body. He became as cold as the Death, and there was not a drop of blood running in his veins when an old little grey _maneen_ came up to him and said, "Isn't it lucky we met you, Teig O'Kane?" Poor Teig could not bring out a word at all, nor open his lips, if he were to get the world for it, and so he gave no answer. "Teig O'Kane," said the little grey man again, "isn't it timely you met us?" Teig could not answer him. "Teig O'Kane," says he, "the third time, isn't it lucky and timely that we met you?" But Teig remained silent, for he was afraid to return an answer, and his tongue was as if it was tied to the roof of his mouth. The little grey man turned to his companions, and there was joy in his bright little eye. "And now," says he, "Teig O'Kane hasn't a word, we can do with him what we please. Teig, Teig," says he, "you're living a bad life, and we can make a slave of you now, and you cannot withstand us, for there's no use in trying to go against us. Lift that corpse." Teig was so frightened that he was only able to utter the two words, "I won't;" for as frightened as he was, he was obstinate and stiff, the same as ever. "Teig O'Kane won't lift the corpse," said the little _maneen_, with a wicked little laugh, for all the world like the breaking of a _lock_ of dry _kippeens_, and with a little harsh voice like the striking of a cracked bell. "Teig O'Kane won't lift the corpse--make him lift it;" and before the word was out of his mouth they had all gathered round poor Teig, and they all talking and laughing through other.