ċuir siad ciṫ teineaḋ asta; aċt níor ċuir sé sin pioc eagla ar Ḋoṁnall. Do ṡeas sé annsin go meisneaṁuil agus do ċong- ḃaiġ sé a ġreim ar an leanaḃ. Tá eolas ag na daoine maiṫe ar gaċ uile níḋ a ḃain- eann leis an saoġal so agus le na daoine atá ann, agus do ḃí ’ḟios ag na cailleaċa ná raiḃ aon ṁaiṫ ’sa’ ḃeiṫ ag troid le Doṁnall nó ag ceapaḋ go gcuirfeaḋ siad eagla air, agus annsan ar casaḋ do láiṁe do ḋein siad ḋá ġearrḟiaḋ duḃa ḋóiḃ féin, agus as go bráṫ leo mar an ġaoiṫ as a raḋairc.
Ní misde a ráḋ go raiḃ Doṁnall sásta go leor leis féin tar éis an ḃeart do ḋein sé. Ṡaoil sé ná raiḃ a leiṫéid d’ ḟear i nÉirinn, agus cá raiḃ an t-iongantas ann sin? mar buḋ deacair fear d’ḟaġáil a raiḃ an ṁeisneaċ ċéadna aige. Aċt pé’r b’ann é, do ḃí an leanaḃ aige slán sáḃálta agus ’n-a ċodlaḋ trom ar a uċt, agus ní raiḃ ’ḟios aige faoi an spéir cad do ḋeanfaḋ sé leis. “Tá leisge orm,” aduḃairt se, “na daoine boċta do ċur tré n-a ċéile, mar tá ’ḟios agam go maiṫ go mbeiḋ an “gaisgi- ḋeaċ” atá istiġ i n-ionad an leanaiḃ so marḃ ar maidin a máraċ; aċt saoilim gur fearr dom é so do ṫógaint aḃaile liom anoċt, agus b’ḟéidir go mbeiḋ ’ḟios agam cad do ḋeanfaiḋ mé leis ar maidin,—beiḋ spórt agam go h-áiriṫe.” Do ḃíḋead súil amaċ aige ar an spórt i gcoṁnuiḋe, atá ’ḟios agat; agus leis sin, do ḃí rud icínt ’n-a ċeann i dtaoiḃ an “ġaisgiḋiġ.” Aċt fé ḋeireaḋ ṡiar ṫall, do ċuaiḋ se ar ais ċun na cruaiċe móna, agus do ċuir sé a ḃróga air, ṫóg a ġunna agus d’imṫig leis aḃaile.
Ní raiḃ aon ġlas ar an dorus, agus do leig sé é féin isteaċ gan ṁoill. Ní ḃíḋeaḋ na dóirse dúnta an t-am sin i n-aon ċor, mar do ḃí na daoine an- ṁacánta—ní mar na daoine atá anois ann. Aċt bíḋeaḋ sé sin mar atá sé, do las Doṁnall an ċoinneal, agus do ċuaiḋ sé síos ’san tseomra, agus do ġlaoiḋ sé ar a ṁáṫair. Do ḃí sí ’n-a codlaḋ, aċt do ṗreab sí suas ’nuair d’airiġ sí Doṁnall.
“Cia atá annsan?” ar sise.
“Mise,” ar Doṁnall.
“Oro, a Ḋoṁnaill a ṫaisge, an anois atá tú ag teaċt isteaċ? Tá sé an-ḟada ’san oiḋċe anois. Cad d’éiriġ ḋuit, nó cad atá uait?”
“Ní’l dadaṁ,” ar Doṁnall, “Éiriġ suas go tapaiḋ anois, agus tar síos go dtí an cistean. Tá gnó agam ḋíot.”
“Cad tá ort a ṁaoineaċ? Beir anuas an solus go ḃfeiciḋ mé ṫú. A’ ḃfaca tú aon rud ’san Daḃaċ anoċt? O, ḃó! ḃó! anois nó riaṁ tá díoġḃáil icínt déanta ag na daoine maiṫe ort. Duḃairt mé leat gan dul amaċ anoċt, aċt níor ġlac tú mo ċoṁairle.”
“’Gcloisir arú! Tá ’ḟios agat go maiṫ ná fuil dul i muġa ar biṫ ionnam-sa, agus má éiriġeann tú beiḋ ’ḟios agat cad atá orm.”
(Tuilleaḋ).
TRANSLATION.
When Daniel saw the hag going in on the window, he tightened himself up to prevent the bad deed they were doing. He let his gun from him, and he put his shoes ofF him in a way that he’d make no noise. Then he gave a skirmish up behind the hag, so lightly that she did not hear him, and at the same moment the hag inside was handing the child out to the other hag. Daniel moved in, and he took the child between his two hands, saying, “I call and consecrate you, in the name of God, to myself!” It is hardly these words were out of his mouth when the hags let an angry, terrible shriek out of them. They struck their tusks together in such a way that they put a shower of fire out of them, but that did not put a pick of fear on Daniel. He stood there courageously and kept his grip on the child. The “good people” know every- thing that belongs to this world and to the people in it, and the hags knew that there was no use in fighting with Daniel, or thinking that they’d put fear on him, and then, in the twist of your hand, they made two black hares of themselves, and away for ever with them like the wind out of his sight.
It is no harm to say that Daniel was satisfied enough with himself after the deed he did. He thought there was not his equal of a man in Ireland, and where was the wonder in that? for it was hard to find a man who had the same courage. But, at any rate, the child was with him safe and sound, and in a heavy sleep on his breast, and he did not know under the sky what he'd do with him. “I am loth,” said he, “to put the poor people about, for I know well that the ‘hero’ who is inside instead of this child will be dead to-morrow morning; but I think it is better for me to take this one home to- night with me, and maybe I’ll know what I'll do with him
