When Mick Doherty heard that there was to be route-marching next
day in the neighbourhood of Kilmacrone, he determined upon going
off for a long "stravade" coastward over the bog, where there were
no roads worth mentioning, and no risks of an encounter with the
military. In this he acted differently from all his neighbours,
most of whom, upon learning the news, began to speculate and plan
how they might see and hear as much as possible of their unwonted
visitors. Opinions were chiefly divided as to whether the Murghadeen
cross-roads would be the best station to take up, or the fork of
the lane at Berrisbawn House. People who, for one reason or another,
could not go so far afield, consoled themselves by reflecting that
the band, at any rate, would be likely to come through the village,
and would no doubt strike up a tune while passing, as it had done
a couple of years ago, the last time the redcoats had appeared
in Kilmacrone. And, och, but that was the grand playin' intirely!
It done your heart good just to be hearin' the sound of it,
bedad it did so. Old Mrs. Geoghegan said it was liker the sort of
thunder-storms they might be apt to have in heaven above than aught
else she could think of, might goodness forgive her for sayin' such
a thing; and Molly Joyce said she'd as lief as not have sat down
and cried when't was passed beyond her listenin', it went that
delightful thumpety-thump, wid the tune flyin' up over it.

The military authorities at Fortbrack were not ignorant of this
popular sentiment, and had considered it in the order of that
day. For experience had shown that a progress of troops through the