They were in the long glen, standing on the pedals to urge themselves faster up the steep road. It seemed to Father Conroy that he was not moving forward at all. Between one sharp bend and the next, the walls of the glen shut out the starlight on either side.

The road grew steeper, and they had to dismount. Half-walking, half-running, they pushed their bicycles before them, slipping and slithering in the ruts of the road. Father Conroy had to stop to ease a stitch in his side.

“Are ye right, Father?” the young man called.

“Wait,” he shouted, “wait a moment.”

It was very still – the only sound the rushing of a stream by the roadside. He felt closed in by the darkness, stifled by the lack of air between the walls of the glen. His collar choked him. He pulled it off and stuffed it into his pocket, then remounted and pressed himself forward up the hill.

A light appeared in the distance and disappeared again. The young man stopped. “Father, look beyond!”

The sound of the tumbling water seemed to grow louder.

The sky had lightened above the head of the glen – the moon was rising. He could see something moving on the gray hillside, down along the line of the walls.

“They’re coming, Father.”

“Who are they?” he whispered.

The young man raised his hand. A hoof slipped on a stone. A burst of a song was suddenly hushed. They could hear a faint murmur of voices.

“They have a share of drink taken,” the young man said.

They pulled their bicycles into the side of the road, under the shadow of a thorn tree. A dark shape lurched up a moment against the skyline, then slipped out of sight. The sound of hooves drew nearer, the hum of rubber-tired wheels moving fast, the creak of swaying springs. Father Conroy made a move to go out into the middle of the road, but the young man put a hand on his arm to restrain him. He watched the faint gray of roadway between the walls ahead. In a moment, a deep, solid blackness filled it, overtopping it, so that he drew back, wanting only to hide from it.

It passed him by. The hoofbeats, the hum of wheels, the creaking – these were its only sounds. It might have been empty, a black, hollow mass swaying past him. As it disappeared into the darkness below, it struck a spark from the road. A man’s voice murmured, and there was a low laugh. Then the sound of hooves died away, and in the silence he heard again the rushing of the stream.

“D’ye think they saw us, Father?”