WILD LIFE ON THE WING 
the flighting of the plover, and clambered 
about the rocks and heather coverts until dawn. 
As he lay in bed at night with the fire banked, 
and the fowls clucking drowsily from their 
perch, he knew very well that devils came and 
mowed at him through the window, and blew 
wicked little songs down the chimney. By day 
he supposed that they turned into foxes and 
hares and quarrelsome larks on the mountain- 
side ; but sometimes a cold mist settled upon 
Slieve Corrig all day, so that he could not see 
the lowlands at all, and then the devils never 
left the place but swam about in the fog, and 
gambolled round the tarn. At first he was 
afraid. He brought holy water and sprinkled 
it round the place, and he crossed himself when 
he heard them clambering up the roof, but these 
devils were stronger than water or sign. Espe- 
cially they loved the tarn whence he fetched 
his water every day. He could not see the 
bottom of that tarn for crawling devils, and 
even in the sunshine they winked at him when 
he stayed long enough. More and more came 
about him at night. He heard them chuckling 
outside, and used to draw the ragged coverlet 
about his ears : he brought his goats into the 
kitchen for company, and put a cross of holy 
water above the hearthstone. He always slept 
with his loaded gun beside him. A neighbour 
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