The wood grew thinner and thinner, and the ground began to slope up
toward the mountain. The moon had already set, and the little white
flames of the stars had come out everywhere. The ground sloped more
and more until at last they rode far above the woods upon the wide
top of the mountain. The woods lay spread out mile after mile below,
and away to the south shot up the red glare of the burning town. But
before and above them were the little white flames. The guide drew
rein suddenly, and pointing upwards with the hand that did not hold
the torch, shrieked out, 'Look; look at the holy candles!' and then
plunged forward at a gallop, waving the torch hither and thither. 'Do
you hear the hoofs of the messengers?' cried the guide. 'Quick,
quick! or they will be gone out of your hands!' and he laughed as
with delight of the chase. The troopers thought they could hear far
off, and as if below them, rattle of hoofs; but now the ground began
to slope more and more, and the speed grew more headlong moment by
moment. They tried to pull up, but in vain, for the horses seemed to
have gone mad. The guide had thrown the reins on to the neck of the
old white horse, and was waving his arms and singing a wild Gaelic
song. Suddenly they saw the thin gleam of a river, at an immense
distance below, and knew that they were upon the brink of the abyss
that is now called Lug-na-Gael, or in English the Stranger's Leap.
The six horses sprang forward, and five screams went up into the air,
a moment later five men and horses fell with a dull crash upon the
green slopes at the foot of the rocks.




THE OLD MEN OF THE TWILIGHT.