The Legend of the Phantom Highwayman Read Free

it was only a skeleton.’
    â€˜What other highwaymen?’ asked Tapser, hoping Mr Stockman would tell him about Hugh Rua.
    â€˜Well, there was Captain Brennan on the Moor as he was known, down in Tipperary. The same thing happened to him.’
    They were well on their way now.
    â€˜And what about the glens?’ asked Tapser. ‘Did they have a highwayman?’
    Mr Stockman smiled and nodded. ‘Of course they did – and still have, by all accounts. His name is Hugh Rua.’
    â€˜What do you mean “still have”? Sure highwaymen lived hundreds of years ago. You’re after saying so yourself.’
    â€˜I know that. But Hugh Rua still rides in the glen – or so they say.’
    Tapser looked at him. ‘You don’t really believe that, do you? I mean, how could he?’
    Mr Stockman was still smiling to himself. When he wasn’t busy on the farm he loved a bit of fun, and enjoyed the sweet run just as much as any of the young people who went with him. ‘Well … the glens have a lot of secrets you know. So have the people.’
    â€˜And what did you say his name was?’
    â€˜Hugh Rua. He had red hair, just like yourself. So he was known as Hugh Rua, or Red Hugh. Probably Hugh of the Red Beard.’
    â€˜That’s a funny sort of name.’
    â€˜Not really. Some highwaymen were known by their own names, like Archer. Or the three O’Haughan brothers, who were highwaymen here in Antrim long before Archer’s time. But sometimes they were given romantic names, like John Mullan of Derry. He was known as Seán Crosagh the outlaw. Then there was Charles Carragher of South Armagh. He was known as Cathal Mór, or Big Charlie. And Charles Dempsey in Laois. He was known as Cahir na gCapall, Charles of the Horses. He was a horse thief.’
    â€˜You seem to know an awful lot about highwaymen,’ said Tapser.
    â€˜That’s because I’ve been reading about them.’
    â€˜Were you trying to find out more about Hugh Rua?’
    Mr Stockman glanced over at him. ‘Aren’t you very curious now?’
    â€˜But did you?’ asked Tapser.
    â€˜Did I what?’
    â€˜Did you find out anything more about Hugh Rua?’
    â€˜Not a whole lot,’ Mr Stockman admitted. ‘But don’t worry. You’ll find out plenty about him down in the glen. He’s regarded as a hero there.’
    â€˜How come?’ asked Tapser.
    â€˜Well, legend has it that when the people were very poor, he rode up out of the glen to rob the rich. A sort of Robin Hood. Then he overdid it and stole a coach, so he ended up on the gallows like Archer.’
    â€˜You mean they hanged him?’
    â€˜Aye. They stood for no nonsense in those days. For some crimes, even small ones, it was transportation to Australia. For murder and highway robbery, it was the gallows. But Hugh Rua’s legend is very much alive in the glen. In fact, there’s been a lot of talk of him recently. You see, some people say they’ve seen him on the High Road in the dead of night. Or if it wasn’t him, it was his ghost.’
    Tapser was bursting with questions now and Mr Stockman judged it was time for a breathing space, so he promptly told him to reach into the back and get a handful of sweets.
    The squat featureless shape of Slemish Mountain loomed large on their right, and as the blue van made its way through the countryside, Mr Stockman turned his attention to the crops. A small man with wispy grey hair, his face was tinged with red from a lifetime spent in the open.
    It was a good year, he was thinking, and the barley was standing well – none of it flattened by heavy rain and high winds as so often happened. Now as he relaxed and thought about the harvest, he began to whistle to himself.
    â€˜What’s that?’ asked Tapser, curious to know what the tune was as it had a nice lilt to it.
    Mr Stockman smiled and gave him a few bars of the