“It’s a nice game,” said the Leprecaun, “and so is Capon-the-back, and Twenty-four yards on the Billy-goat’s Tail, and Towns, and Relievo, and Leap-frog. I’ll teach you all these games,” said the Leprecaun, “and I’ll teach you how to play Knifey, and Hole-and-taw, and Horneys and Robbers.
“Leap-frog is the best one to start with, so I’ll teach it to you at once. Let you bend down like this, Breedeen, and you bend down like that a good distance away, Seumas. Now I jump over Breedeen’s back, and then I run and jump over Seumaseen’s back like this, and then I run ahead again and I bend down. Now, Breedeen, you jump over your brother, and then you jump over me, and run a good bit on and bend down again. Now, Seumas, it’s your turn; you jump over me and then over your sister, and then you run on and bend down again and I jump.”
“This is a fine game, sir,” said Seumas.
“It is, a vic vig,—keep in your head,” said the Leprecaun. “That’s a good jump, you couldn’t beat that jump, Seumas.”
“I can jump better than Brigid already,” replied Seumas, “and I’ll jump as well as you do when I get more practice—keep in your head, sir.”
Almost without noticing it they had passed through the edge of the wood, and were playing into a rough field which was cumbered with big, grey rocks. It was the very last field in sight, and behind it the rough, heather-packed mountain sloped distantly away to the skyline. There was a raggedy blackberry hedge all round the field, and there were long, tough, haggard-looking plants growing in clumps here and there. Near a corner of this field there was a broad, low tree, and as they played they came near and nearer to it. The Leprecaun gave a back very close to the tree. Seumas ran and jumped and slid down a hole at the side of the tree. Then Brigid ran and jumped and slid down the same hole.
“Dear me!” said Brigid, and she flashed out of sight.
The Leprecaun cracked his fingers and rubbed one leg against the other, and then he also dived into the hole and disappeared from view.
When the time at which the children usually went home had passed, the Thin Woman of Inis Magrath became a little anxious. She had never known them to be late for dinner before. There was one of the children whom she hated; it was her own child, but as she had forgotten which of them was hers, and as she loved one of them, she was compelled to love both for fear of making a mistake and chastising the child for whom her heart secretly yearned. Therefore, she was equally concerned about both of them.
Dinner time passed and supper time arrived, but the children did not. Again and again the Thin Woman went out through the dark pine trees and called until she was so hoarse that she could not even hear herself when she roared. The evening wore on to the night, and while she waited for the Philosopher to come in she reviewed the situation. Her husband had not come in, the children had not come in, the Leprecaun had not returned as arranged.... A light flashed upon her. The Leprecaun had kidnapped her children! She announced a vengeance against the Leprecauns which would stagger humanity. While in the extreme centre of her ecstasy the Philosopher came through the trees and entered the house.