There was great talk going on about the Omagh train. The boys who had been sold at the fair before said that the best masters came from near the town of Omagh, and so everyone waited eagerly until eleven o'clock, the hour at which the train was due.
It was easy to know when the Omagh men came, for they overcrowded an already big market. Most of them were fat, angry-looking fellows, who kept moving up and down examining us after the manner of men who seek out the good and bad points of horses which they intend to buy.
Sometimes they would speak to each other, saying that they never saw such a lousy and ragged crowd of servants in the market-place in all their life before, and they did not seem to care even if we overheard them say these things. On the whole I had no great liking for the Omagh men.
A big man with a heavy stomach came up to me.
"How much do ye want for the six months?" he asked.
"Six pounds," I told him.
"Shoulders too narrow for the money," he said, more to himself than to me, and walked on.
Standing beside me was an old father, who had a son and daughter for sale. The girl looked pale and sickly. She had a cough that would split a rock.
"Arrah, an' will ye whisth that coughin'!" said her brother, time and again. "Sure, ye know that no wan will give ye wages if ye go on in that way."