Page:The Playboy of the Western World.djvu/34

 the edge of it on the ridge of his skull, and he went down at my feet like an empty sack, and never let a grunt or groan from him at all.

And what way weren't you hanged, mister? Did you bury him then?

Aye. I buried him then. Wasn't I digging spuds in the field?

And the peelers never followed after you the eleven days that you're out?

Never a one of them, and I walking forward facing hog, dog, or divil on the highway of the road.

It's only with a common week-day kind of a murderer them lads would be trusting their carcase, and that man should be a great terror when his temper's roused.