The Legend of the Phantom Highwayman Read Free Page B

coast, near Ballycastle.’
    Tapser tried to take it all in, and when he could strain his eyes no further than the hazy blue outline on the horizon, he switched his gaze back in towards the shore. Fishermen in small boats were tending to their lobster pots and nets. In the little harbour, a ship was unloading cargo.
    Mr Stockman pointed to a building that rose up out of the scrub on the left side of the glen. It was white and glistened brightly in the sun.
    â€˜That’s the Castle Spa Hotel down on the Low Road.’
    â€˜What’s a spa?’ asked Tapser.
    â€˜A spring well,’ said Mr Stockman. ‘The one there is supposed to have been blessed by St Patrick, and they say the water has great healing power. As a slave, Patrick herded swine on the slopes of Slemish, you know. And over there on the right, beside the High Road, you’ll find a memorial to Hugh Rua. That’s where they hanged him.’
    As the van freewheeled its way down into the glen, Tapser couldn’t help wondering about Hugh Rua and what Mr Stockman had said about the people of the glen. Did they really have a lot of secrets? And was the Legend of the Phantom Highwayman one of them?

2. THE SPIRIT OF THE GLEN

    When the van pulled into the yard, Cowlick’s mother and father gave Mr Stockman and Tapser a hearty welcome. A few minutes later Cowlick rushed around the end of the house to greet them too. He was followed by the farm’s two sheepdogs, which pranced around, resenting Prince, but finally accepted the bigger male collie with a submissive lowering of their tails.
    It was dinner time, and the two visitors were ushered into the kitchen. It was a typical farmhouse, big and warm and smelling of boiled potatoes and freshly baked soda bread. Cowlick’s mother, a plump homely woman, had already laid the table, and when they had taken their places she filled their plates with lavish helpings of bacon and cabbage.
    Unlike Mr Stockman, Cowlick’s father was a big burly man. He had a ruddy complexion, sparse sandy hair and a hearty laugh, and as they peeled their potatoes he told Mr Stockman he was waiting for the combine harvester to arrive in the morning.
    Just then, Cowlick’s sisters, Róisín and Rachel, burst in and dumped a bucket beside the kitchen sink. They had been picking blackberries up the side of the glen and had run all the way down. The berries were for making jam but, as their mother observed, it was plain to see they had been eating them too. As a result they had to contain their excitement until they rushed upstairs and gave their hands and faces a quick wash.
    When the dinner was over, the two men went off to look at some livestock in the back yard, and Cowlick and his sisters showed Tapser where he would be sleeping. An old rambling farmhouse, it had a big unused sitting room with old-fashioned pictures of lone stags in mountain settings, other smaller rooms here and there, narrow corridors, steep stairs, and what seemed like a lot of bedrooms.
    Tapser was delighted to learn he wouldn’t be sleeping on his own, but would be sharing a room with Cowlick. He had just brought up his case when they were told Mr Stockman was leaving, so they all rushed down to say goodbye.
    Mr Stockman told them he would be going to the Lammas Fair at Ballycastle the following Monday and would call and collect Tapser on his way home. He gave each of them a handful of sweets and with a wave left to make the rest of his deliveries.
    When the blue van had disappeared from their view, the others asked Tapser what he would like to do. Of course, after the drive with Mr Stockman, the only things he had on his mind were poteen makers and Hugh Rua. Poteen-makers they’d never find his cousins told him, but if he wanted to find out more about Hugh Rua, why not? So they immediately set off for the High Road and the site of the memorial to the highwayman.
    Prince explored a variety of scents as they climbed up