"So the three av thim mounted on the wan horse, Lord Robert in the saddle, the divil behind, an’ the witch in front av him, an’ away like the wind to the cave. Whin they got to the turn o’ the hill, they got aff an’ hid in the bushes bechune the cave an’ the shpring, bekase, as Satan axplained to Lord Robert, ivery night, just at midnight, the saint wint to get him a dhrink av wather, bein’ dhry wid the devotions, an’ ’ud bring the full av a bucket back wid him. "’We’ll shtop him be the shpring,’ says the divil, ’wid the witch, an’ you an’ me’ull shtale the girl while he’s talkin’. "So while the clock was shtrikin’ fur twilve, out come the saint wid the wather-bucket an’ shtarted to the shpring. Whin he got there an’ was takin’ his dhrink, up comes the witch an’ begins tellin’ him av a son she had (she was purtindin’, ye ondhershtand, an’ lyin’ to him) that was as lazy as a câr-horse an’ as much in the way as a sore thumb, an’ axin’ the saint’s advice phat to do wid him, while Satan an’ Lord Robert ran into the cave. The divil picked up Kathleen in his arrums, but he darn’t have done that same, only she was on the other side av the cave an’ away from the althar, but Tim was shtandin’ by it, an’ shtarted out wid her kickin’ an’ schraichin’. Tim ran to grip him, but Satan tossed him back like a ball an’ he fell on the flure. "’Howld on till I shtick him,’ says Lord Robert, pullin’ out his soord. "’Come on, ye bosthoon,’ says Satan to him. ’Sure the saint ’ull be on us if we don’t get away quick,’ an’ bedad, as he said thim words, the dure opened, an’ in come Saint Tigernach wid a bucket av wather on his arrum an’ in a hurry, fur he misthrusted something. "’God’s presince be about us,’ says the blessed saint, whin he saw the divil, an’ the turkey-bumps begun to raise on his blessed back an’ the shweat a-comin’ on his face, fur he knewn Satan well enough, an’ consaved the owld felly had come fur himself be razon av a bit o’ mate he ate that day, it bein’ av a Friday; axceptin’ he didn’t ate the mate but only tasted it an’ then spit it out agin to settle a quarl bechune a butcher an’ a woman that bought the mate an’ said it was bad, only he was afeared Satan didn’t see him when he sput it out agin. ’God’s presince be about us,’ says the saint, a-crossin’ himself as fast as he cud. In a minnit though, he seen it wasn’t him, but Kathleen, that was in it, an’ let go the wather an’ caught the blessed crass that was hangin’ on him wid his right hand an’ gripped Satan be the throat wid his lift, a-pushin’ the crass in his face. "The divil dhropped Kathleen like it was a bag av male she was, an’ she rolled over an’ over on the flure like a worrum till she raiched the althar an’ stuck to it as tight as the bark on a tree. An’ a fine thing it was to see the inimy av our sowls a-lyin’ there trimblin’, wid the saint’s fut on his neck.