"Well, Masther Harry," said he, assuming the air of a man who spoke with
authority, "what do you think of that?"
"I think you are right," replied Woodward; assuming on his part, for
reasons which will be subsequently understood, an impression of sudden
conviction. "I think you are right, Barney, and that the Black Spectre
and the witch are acquaintances."
"Try her wid a silver bullet," said Barney; "there is nothing else for
it. No dog can kill her--that's a clear case; but souple as she is, a
silver bullet is the only messenger that can overtake her. Bad luck
to her, the thief! sure, if she'd turn to God and repint, it isn't
codgerin' wid sich company she'd be, and often in danger, besides, of
havin' a greyhound's nose at her flank. I hope you're satisfied, Masther
Harry?"
"Perfectly, Barney; there can be no doubt about it now. As for my part,
I know not what temptation could induce me to enter that haunted house.
I see that I was on dangerous ground when I defied the witch in the hut;
but I shall take care to be more cautious in future."
They then bent their steps homewards, each sufficiently fatigued and
exhausted after the sports of the day to require both food and rest.
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