“Say I was puttin' on my shoes, Nancy,” said Dan, as his teeth chattered with fear, while he took down an old blunderbuss from its place above the fire, and which had never been stirred for years past. “Lay her back agen where ye found her,” said Nancy, dryly; “is na every fule kens the like o' them! Take your mass-book, and the gimcracks ye hae ower your bed, but dinna try mortal weapons with them creatures.” Ironical as the tone of this counsel unquestionably was, Dan was in no mood to reject it altogether, and he slipped from its place within his breast to a more ostensible position a small blessed token, or “gospel,” as it is called, which he always wore round his neck. By this time the clank of the bell kept pace with the knocking sounds without, and poor Dan was fairly at his wits' end which enemy to face. Some vague philosophy about the “devil you know, and the devil you don't,” seemed to decide his course, for he rushed from the kitchen in a state of frenzied desperation, and, with the blunderbuss at full cock, took the way towards the gate. The wicket, as it was termed, was in reality a strong oak gate, garnished at top with a row of very formidable iron spikes, and as it was hung between two jagged and abrupt masses of rock, formed a very sufficient outwork, though a very needless one, since the slightest turn to either side would have led to the cottage without any intervening barrier to pass. This fact it was which now increased Dan Nelligan's terrors, as he reasoned that nobody but a ghost or evil spirit would be bothering himself at the wicket, when there was a neat footpath close by. “Who's there?” cried Dan, with a voice that all his efforts could not render steady. “Come out and open the gate,” shouted a deep voice in return. “Not till you tell me where you come from, and who you are, if you are 'lucky.'” “That I 'm not,” cried the other, with something very like a deep groan; “if I were, I 'd scarce be here now.” “That's honest? anyhow,” muttered Dan, who interpreted the phrase in its popular acceptation among the southern peasantry. “And what are you come back for, alanah?” continued he, in a most conciliating tone. “Open the gate, and don't keep me here answering your stupid questions.”