“Ay, an’ Beal Derg, or the Red Mouth, is still livin’.”
“Livin’! why, is he a man of our own time?”
“Our own time! The Lord help you! It’s more than a thousand years since he made the prophecy. The case you see is this: he an’ the ten thousand witnesses are lyin’ in an enchanted sleep in one of the Montherlony mountains.”
“An’ how is that known, Barney?”
“It’s known. Every night at a certain hour one of the witnesses—an’ they’re all sogers, by the way—must come out to look for the sign that’s to come.”
“An’ what is that, Barney?”
“It’s the fiery cross; an’ when he sees one on aich of the four mountains of the north, he’s to know that the same sign’s abroad in all the other parts of the kingdom. Beal Derg an’ his men are then to waken up, an’ by their aid the Valley of the Black Pig is to be set free for ever.”
“An’ what is the Black Pig, Barney?”
“The Prospitarian church, that stretch from Enniskillen to Darry, an’ back again from Darry to Enniskillen.”
“Well, well, Barney, but prophecy is a strange thing to be sure! Only think of men livin’ a thousand years!”