Michael (in a terrified whisper). Is the old lad killed surely?

Philly I’m after feeling the last gasps quitting his heart. (They peer in at Christy.)

Michael (with a rope). Look at the way he is. Twist a hangman’s knot on it, and slip it over his head, while he’s not minding at all.

Philly Let you take it, Shaneen. You’re the soberest of all that’s here.

Shawn Is it me to go near him, and he the wickedest and worst with me? Let you take it, Pegeen Mike.

Pegeen Come on, so.

She goes forward with the others, and they drop the double hitch over his head.

Christy What ails you?

Shawn (triumphantly, as they pull the rope tight on his arms). Come on to the peelers, till they stretch you now.

Christy Me!

Michael If we took pity on you, the Lord God would, maybe, bring us ruin from the law to-day, so you’d best come easy, for hanging is an easy and a speedy end.

Christy I’ll not stir. (To Pegeen.) And what is it you’ll say to me, and I after doing it this time in the face of all?

Pegeen I’ll say, a strange man is a marvel, with his mighty talk; but what’s a squabble in your back-yard, and the blow of a loy, have taught me that there’s a great gap between a gallous story and a dirty deed. (To Men.) Take him on from this, or the lot of us will be likely put on trial for his deed to-day.

Christy (with horror in his voice). And it’s yourself will send me off, to have a horny-fingered hangman hitching his bloody slip-knots at the butt of my ear.

Men (pulling rope). Come on, will you?

He is pulled down on the floor.

Christy (twisting his legs round the table). Cut the rope, Pegeen, and I’ll quit the lot of you, and live from this out, like the madmen of Keel, eating muck and green weeds, on the faces of the cliffs.

Pegeen And leave us to hang, is it, for a saucy liar, the like of you? (To men.) Take him on, out from this.

Shawn Pull a twist on his neck, and squeeze him so.

Philly Twist yourself. Sure he cannot hurt you, if you keep your distance from his teeth alone.

Shawn I’m afeard of him. (To Pegeen.) Lift a lighted sod, will you, and scorch his leg.

Pegeen (blowing the fire, with a bellows). Leave go now, young fellow, or I’ll scorch your shins.

Christy You’re blowing for to torture me (His voice rising and growing stronger.) That’s your kind, is it? Then let the lot of you be wary, for, if I’ve to face the gallows, I’ll have a gay march down, I tell you, and shed the blood of some of you before I die.