to bate the rain an’ the darkness. But the elements were too swift-footed, an’ the rain came down an’ all the shadows met together, an’ the dusk whirled quick intil blackness before they raiched the gloomy hill.
Ever and always Chartres’ mill was a misfortunit place. It broke the heart of an’ runed and kilt the man who built it; an’ itself was a rune these last tunty years.
Many was the wild tale known throughout the counthry-side of the things that had been seen an’ heard at that same mill, but the tale that kept Darby an’ the tinker unwelcome company as the pony throtted along was what had happened there a couple of years before. One night, as Paddy Carroll was dhrivin’ past the gloomy ould place, his best ear cocked an’ his weather eye open for ghosts, there came sudden from the mill three agonised shrieks for help.
Thinkin’ ’twas the spirits that were in it Paddy whipped up his pony an’ hurried on his way. But the next morning, misdoubtin’ whether ’twasn’t a human woice, afther all, he had heard, Paddy gathered up a dozen of the neighbours an’ went back to inwestigate. What did they find in one of the upper rooms but a peddler, lying flat on the floor, his pack
