CHRISTY. _almost gaily._—If I do lay my hands on you, it’s the way you’ll be at the fall of night, hanging as a scarecrow for the fowls of hell. Ah, you’ll have a gallous jaunt I’m saying, coaching out through Limbo with my father’s ghost. SHAWN. _to Pegeen._—Make haste, will you? Oh, isn’t he a holy terror, and isn’t it true for Father Reilly, that all drink’s a curse that has the lot of you so shaky and uncertain now? CHRISTY. If I can wring a neck among you, I’ll have a royal judgment looking on the trembling jury in the courts of law. And won’t there be crying out in Mayo the day I’m stretched upon the rope with ladies in their silks and satins snivelling in their lacy kerchiefs, and they rhyming songs and ballads on the terror of my fate? [_He squirms round on the floor and bites Shawn’s leg._] SHAWN. _shrieking._—My leg’s bit on me. He’s the like of a mad dog, I’m thinking, the way that I will surely die. CHRISTY. _delighted with himself._—You will then, the way you can shake out hell’s flags of welcome for my coming in two weeks or three, for I’m thinking Satan hasn’t many have killed their da in Kerry, and in Mayo too. [_Old Mahon comes in behind on all fours and looks on unnoticed._] MEN. _to Pegeen._—Bring the sod, will you? PEGEEN. _coming over._—God help him so. (_Burns his leg._) CHRISTY. _kicking and screaming._—O, glory be to God! [_He kicks loose from the table, and they all drag him towards the door._] JIMMY. _seeing old Mahon._—Will you look what’s come in? [_They all drop Christy and run left._] CHRISTY. _scrambling on his knees face to face with old Mahon._—Are you coming to be killed a third time, or what ails you now? MAHON. For what is it they have you tied? CHRISTY. They’re taking me to the peelers to have me hanged for slaying you. MICHAEL. _apologetically._—It is the will of God that all should guard their little cabins from the treachery of law, and what would my daughter be doing if I was ruined or was hanged itself? MAHON. _grimly, loosening Christy._—It’s little I care if you put a bag on her back, and went picking cockles till the hour of death; but my son and myself will be going our own way, and we’ll have great times from this out telling stories of the villainy of Mayo, and the fools is here. (_To Christy, who is freed._) Come on now. CHRISTY. Go with you, is it? I will then, like a gallant captain with his heathen slave. Go on now and I’ll see you from this day stewing my oatmeal and washing my spuds, for I’m master of all fights from now. (_Pushing Mahon._) Go on, I’m saying. MAHON. Is it me? CHRISTY. Not a word out of you. Go on from this. MAHON. _walking out and looking back at Christy over his shoulder._—Glory be to God! (_With a broad smile._) I am crazy again! [_Goes._]