His plans were now altered, and instead of going on to his friend, he returned to Katty’s shed, carefully carrying his new acquisition under his arm.
He found no difficulty in getting back into the shed, but the difficulty of freeing the boots from the feet and portion of the legs that remained in them was increased rather than lessened; and at length Paddy fell asleep over his unaccomplished task. When he awoke day was already beginning to dawn, and as he wanted to be early at a small town, some six miles off, where there was to be a fair, he had no time to lose; so he quickly got out of the shed, leaving the boots behind him as useless—his friend Murphy’s feet pertinaciously keeping possession of them.
Not long after, Tim went to fetch him to breakfast, to make up for the inhospitality of the previous night; for with returning light the courage of the family was restored, and, as is frequently the case with weak minds, day gave an appearance of security to that which night had shrouded in danger.
What was his surprise to see the shed occupied by Katty alone; for he had found the door locked as he had left it the night before, and yet Paddy was nowhere to be seen.
He never once thought of the hole in the roof, and was puzzled beyond measure. Paddy must be somewhere; so he looked in all the four corners of the shed, under the straw, and even under Katty herself, who was comfortably lying down. He now saw the boots, and was more puzzled than ever. He scratched his head, as people will do when the understanding is at fault, and during that process a horrible light burst upon him.
He rushed out of the shed back to the kitchen, where, to the amazement of all, he let himself fall into old Goff’s, just then, vacant chair, his mouth open, his hair erect, and his eyes nearly starting from his head.
All exclaimed with one voice, “What in heaven’s name has happened! What is the matter with you, Tim?” After gasping several times for breath Tim cried out, “Och, the unnatural baste! Och, the blood-thirsty cannibal! Poor Paddy! Och, the murthering brute!”
“In the name of all the saints tell us what has happened!” his Father said; and after a few more incoherent sentences, Tim related how on going into the shed he could not find the Piper, though he could not have got out, for he had locked the door the night before, and found it still locked; how that, after looking all about, he had discovered the boots, but that Katty had eaten up poor Paddy.
