I was more successful than I had expected, and succeeded in hooking and landing a brace of tolerably-sized salmon,--Denis having caught twice as many. This encouraged us to go on, and the shades of evening had already begun to spread over the beautiful landscape before we thought of giving in. At length Larry came up to me. "I wouldn't be after wishing to frighten you, Mr Terence," he said in a whisper, "but I have just now seen something I don't like." "What is it, Larry?" I asked. "Is it in human shape, or with four legs, a couple of horns, and a tail?" "Don't be laughing at it, Mr Terence. I'm thinking you don't know where we are, or you wouldn't be after doing that," he whispered. "We are fishing in the stream of Corregan," I said. "But does your honour know what happened here?" he asked, in a low voice. "It's his ghost I've seen, as sure as I'm a living man, just behind yon clump of trees there hanging over the water; and I'm thinking he'll be showing himself again if we stop here longer." "I shall be very happy to make his acquaintance, whoever he is," I said. "Does Mr Denis know anything about him?" "Master Denis would be only laughing at me if I were to speak to him about it," said Larry. I called to Denis, and said that I was ready to put up my rod, as I wished to make the acquaintance of a suspicious individual who was said to be lurking about the stream. He replied that he would be ready to come as soon as he had landed a salmon he had lately hooked. "Come, Larry, tell me all about this ghost, or spirit, or whatever it was, you fancy you saw just now," I said, while engaged in winding up my line. "Hish! your honour; we mustn't speak loud about him, if you plaise, and I'll tell you," he answered. "It's just this, your honour: while we were away in foreign parts, there was a broth of a boy,--I knew him well,--Dominic Brian. Well, Nick was one evening going home from reaping, along this very part of the stream, when what did he do but cut his own head off. Why he did it no one to this day can tell; but certain sure his body was found on the bank, with his bloody scythe beside him, but his head was gone. They say he comes every evening at the same hour to look out for his head, since he doesn't rest quiet in his grave without it. When they told me about it I laughed, thinking it couldn't be true; but seeing's believing, and as sure as I'm a living man, I saw Dominic Brian this very evening with his head under his arm." "I thought you said that he always came to look for his head?" I observed. "Shure so I did, Mr Terence; but the ghost I saw had his head tucked under his arm, just as if it had been a keg of potheen." "Whether he has his head under his arm or has got it on at all, I'll rout him out," I exclaimed.