“And what troubles you now, Larry?”
Larry hereupon told the whole of his strange misfortunes to the stranger, ending with a deep “ochone,” and wishing, if it was the will of God, that “his four bones were stretched in the church-yard of Kilebawn.”
“You’ll be there time enough for your welcome, may be,” said the old chap, “but that’s neither here nor there. What will you do with the black cat?”
“Och, sweet bad luck to all the cats alive, both black and white,” imprecated Larry.
“That cat’s a devil—a fiend,” said the stranger; “and more than that, he intends to murder you and your family this very night.”
Larry groaned and crossed his forehead, whilst the stranger’s hideous countenance was convulsed with half-suppressed laughter.
“Well, Larry,” said he again, “I am your friend, and I have power to save you and yours, on one condition; and that is, that you will stop up the window in the back wall of your cabin.”
“Faith and I’ll do that with a heart and a half,” said Larry. “But what do you want that for?”
“I’ll tell you that another time,” said the little man.