The Ulsterman [antikvár]

THE ULSTERMAN. CHAPTER L It was within five minutes of midnight on the eleventh of July, and in some of the cottages in the Ulster village of Arderry lights were beginning to appear, and the upper halves of some of the doors giving upon the street were opened, a figure appearing at each for a few moments and then withdrawing to give the report of the weather to the people within—their voices of enquiry might have been heard by anyone passing. Before the church clock had struck the hour, there was a sound as of a hollow cask being rolled over an uneven road; but anyone with discriminating ears, after a minute's uncertainty, would have known that it proceeded from the furtive tapping of several drums. It was soft, but immensely hollow, suggestive of the reverberation of the sea swinging into a long cave. Then several of the uppers of half-doors were pulled open and a man's head and shoulders showed at each, sharply defined against the candlelight of the kitchen beyond, and neighbours greeted one another with the curt cordiality of the district,