It was not long until the old man gained the summit of the hill, but while he was approaching, many were the "wonders" what in the name of fortune could have brought Tatther the Road there.—"And by dad," said one, "he's pullin' fut[[8]] at a great rate, and it's wondherful how an owld cock like him can clamber up the hill so fast."
"Aye," said another, "and with the weight he's carrying too."
"Sure enough," said a third. "Faix he's got a fine lob in his wallet to-day."
"Whisht!" said O'Hara.—"Here he comes, and his ears are as sharp as needles."
"And his eyes too," said a woman. "Lord be good to me, did you ever see poor Tatther's eyes look so terrible bright afore?"
And indeed this remark was not uncalled for, for the eyes of the old man almost gleamed from under the shaggy brows that were darkly bent over them, as, with long strides, he approached the crowd which opened before him, and he stalked up to the side of the grave and threw down the ponderous wallet, which fell to the ground with a heavy crash.
"You were going to close the grave too soon," were the first words he uttered.
"Sure when the tithe is wanst buried, what more have we to do?" said one of the by-standers.
"Aye, you have put the tithe in the grave—but will it stay there?"
"Why indeed," said Larry Lanigan, "I think he'd be a bowld resurrection man that would come to rise it."