The Greatest Works of Bram Stoker - 45+ Titles in One Edition. Брэм Стокер

rose up out of the wee fen at the top of the hill, wid his gold crown gleamin'—an' more betoken it was harvest time, an' the moon was up, an' the sun was settin', so the big jool in the crown had the light of both the sun an' the moon, an' it shone so bright that right away in Lensther the people thought the whole counthry was afire. But whin the Saint seen him, his whole forrum seemed to swell out an' get bigger an' bigger, an' he lifted his crozier, an' he pointed West, an' sez he, in a voice like a shtorm, ' To the say all ye shnakes! At wanst! to the say!'

      "An' in the instant, wid wan movement, an' wid a hiss that made the air seem full iv watherfalls the whole iv the shnakes that was round the hill wriggled away into the say as if the fire was at their tails. There was so many iv them that they filled up the say out beyant to Cusheen Island, and them that was behind, had to shlide over their bodies. An' the say piled up till it sent a wave mountains high rollin' away across the Atlantic till it sthruck upon the shore iv America— though more betoken it wasn't America thin, for it wasn't discovered till long afther. An' there was so many shnakes that they do say that all the white sand that dhrifts up on the coast from the Blaskets to Achill Head is made from their bones." Here Andy cut in:—

      "But, Jerry, you haven't tould us if the King iv the Shnakes wint too."

      "Musha! but it's in a hurry ye are. How can I tell ye the whole laygend at wanst; an', moreover, when me mouth is that dhry I can hardly spake at all—an' me punch is all dhrunk "

      He turned his glass face down on the table, with an air of comic resignation. Mrs. Kelligan took the hint and refilled his glass whilst he went on:—

      "Well! whin the shnakes tuk to say-bathin' an' forgot to come in to dhry themselves, the ould King iv thim sunk down agin into the lake, an' Saint Pathrick rowls his eyes, an' sez he to himself:—

      "'Musha! is it dhramin' I am, or what? or is it laughin' at me he is? Does he mane to defy me?' An' seein' that no notice was tuk iv him at all, he lifts his crozier, and calls out:—

      "'Hi! Here! You! Come here! I want ye!'—As he spoke, Jerry went through all the pantomime of the occasion, exemplifying by every movement the speech of both the Saint and the Snake.

      "Well! thin the King iv the Shnakes puts up his head, out iv the lake, an' sez he:—

      "'Who calls?'

      "'I do,' says Saint Pathrick, an' he was so much mulvathered at the Shnake presumin' to sthay, afther he tould thim all to go, that for a while he didn't think it quare that he could sphake at all.

      "'Well, what do ye want wid me?' sez the Shnake. "' I want to know why you didn't lave Irish soil wid all th' other Shnakes,' sez the Saint.

      "'Ye tould the Shnakes to go,' sez the King, 'an' I am their King, so I am; and your wurrds didn't apply to me!' an' with that he dhrops like a flash of lightnin' into the lake agin.

      "Well! St. Patrick was so tuk back wid his impidence that he had to think for a minit, an' then he calls again:—

      "'Hi! here! you!'

      "'What do you want now?' sez the King iv the Shnakes, again poppin' up his head.

      "'I want to know why you didn't obey me ordhers? ' sez the Saint. An' the King luked at him an' laughed; and he looked mighty evil, I can tell ye—for be this time the sun was down and the moon up, and the jool in his crown threw out a pale cold light that would make you shuddher to see. 'An',' says he, as slow an' as hard as an attorney (saving your prisence) when he has a bad case:—

      "'I didn't obey,' sez he, 'because I thraverse the jurisdiction.'

      "'How do ye mane?' asks St. Pathrick.

      "'Because,' sez he, 'this is my own houldin',' sez he, 'be perscriptive right,' sez he. 'I'm the whole gover-mint here, and I put a nexeat on meself not to lave widout me own permission,' and he ducks down agin into the pond.

      "Well, fhe Saint began to get mighty angry, an' he raises his crozier, and he calls him agin:—

      "'Hi! here! yon!' and the Shnake pops up.

      "'Well! Saint, what do you want now? Amn't I to be quit iv ye at all? '

      "'Are ye goin', or are ye not?' sez the Saint.

      "'I'm king here; an' I'm not goin'.'

      "'Thin,' says the Saint, ' I depose ye!'

      "'You can't,' sez the Shnake, 'whilst I have me crown.'

      "'Then I'll take it from ye,' sez St. Pathrick.

      "'Catch me first!' sez the Shnake; an' wid that he pops undher the wather, what began to bubble up and boil. Well thin! the good Saint stood bewildhered, for as he was lukin' the wather began to disappear out of the wee lake—and then the ground iv the hill began to be shaken as if the big Shnake was rushin' round and round it down deep down undher the ground.

      "So the Saint stood on the edge of the empty lake an' held up his crozier, and called on the Shnake to come forth. And when he hiked down, lo! an' behold ye! there lay the King iv the Shnakes coiled round the bottom iv the lake—though how he had got there the Saint could niver tell, for he hadn't been there when he began to summons him. Then the Shnake raised his head, and, lo! and behold ye! there was no crown on to it.

      "'Where is your crown? ' sez the Saint.

      "'It's hid,' sez the Shnake, leerin' at him.

      "'Where is it liid? '

      "'It's hid in the mountain! Buried where you nor the likes iv you can't touch it in a thousand years!' an' he leered agin.

      "'Tell me where it may be found? ' sez the Saint starnly. An' thin the Shnake leers at him again wid an eviller smile than before; an' sez he:—

      "'Did ye see the wather what was in the lake? '

      "'I did,' sez Saint Pathrick.

      "'Thin, when ye find that wather ye may find me jool'd crown, too,' sez he; an' before the Saint could say a word, he wint on:—

      "'An' till ye git me crown I'm king here still, though ye banish me. An' mayhap, I'll come in some forrum what ye don't suspect, for I must watch me crown. An' now I go away—iv me own accorrd.' An' widout one word more, good or bad, he shlid right away into the say, dhrivin' through the rock an' makin' the clift that they call the Shleenanaher—an' that's Irish for the Shnake's Pass—until this day."

      "An' now, sir, if Mrs. Kelligan hasn't dhrunk up the whole bar'l, I'd like a dhrop iv punch, for talkin' is dhry wurrk," and he buried his head in the steaming jorum, which the hostess had already prepared.

      The company then began to discuss the legend. Said one of the women:—

      "I wondher what forrum he tuk when he kem back!" Jerry answered:—

      "Sure, they do say that the shiftin' bog wor the forrum he tuk. The mountain wid the lake on top used to be the fertilest shpot in the whole counthry; but iver since the bog began to shift this was niver the same."

      Here a hard-faced man named McGlown, who had been silent, struck in with a question:—

      "But who knows when the bog did begin to shift?"

      "Musha! Sorra one of me knows; but it was whin th' ould Shnake druv the wather iv the lake into the hill!"—There was a twinkle in the eyes of the storyteller, which made one doubt his own belief in his story.

      "Well, for ma own part," said McGlown, "A don't believe a sengle word of it."

      "An' for why not?" said one of the women. "Isn't the mountain called ' Knockcalltecrore,' or ' The Hill of the Lost Crown iv Gold,' till this day?" Said another:—

      " Musha! how could Misther McGlown believe any-thin', an' him a Protestan'."

      "A'll tell ye that A much prefer the facs," said McGlown. "Ef hestory es till be believed, A much prefer the story told till me by yon old man. Damn me! but A believe he's old enough till remember the theng itself."

      He pointed as he spoke to old Moynahan, who, shrivelled