The youth of the
neighbourhood stood in a group at the corner on that Autumn
afternoon of the big wind.
The fury of the wind had gone, leaving an eerie silent stillness
in it's wake.
Michael Mac Connell's hay stack was missing, it's remains
could be seen entangled in the fuchsia and hawthorn hedges,
like giant spiders' webs. Johnny sauntered into sight down
the brae. "Where you off to? "someone asked. "To give Mick
a hand to fix a roof in the village." All hands abandoned
the corner and followed him, commenting on the storm damage
as they went.
Mick
Mallon's black van sat motionless, when we rounded the bend.
We watched him turn the cranking handle furiously, as he tried
in vain to start the engine."To hell with it anyway, not even
a kick in it," he spat rubbing his shoulder. "'I don't know
a damn how I'm going to get the ladder and slates down to
Murphy's roof," he muttered angrily giving the van a kick.
"We could take them down in the donkey's cart," John piped
up. He let out a long low sigh before he answered. "I suppose
1 will have to take you up on your offer.
The slates are to heavy to carry, and this confounded yoke
won't budge," he gave it another kick for good measure as
he walked off. He stopped at the door, and called back, "Be
as quick as you can. And you go with him Johnny, I have to
get that roof fixed before dark." The loud rattle of the iron
wheels on the rocky lane could he heard in the still air,
long before the cart came into view. When the slates were
loaded and the ladder balanced on the cart, all hands set
off at a steady, noisy rattle for Murphy's roof; all except
Mick. "I'll follow you up in a wee while," he said lamely.
"Take it easy with the slates now, they break easy." "Don't
worry, Neddy is not in the habit of breaking into a
sudden gallop," John said reassuringly.
With the slates and ladder safely transported to Murphy's,
everyone waited for Mick to arrive. When he showed up, he
spent the first half hour explaining to all who passed, how
his trusted van had let him down badly, and how he was reduced
to such a low form of transport.
The gaping hole in the roof soon began to disappear when he
got to work on it. Up and down the ladder he went laiden with
slates; the noise of his hammering filling the air while Johnny
held the ladder for each descent. A football rolled into Johnny's
path, he left the ladder only momentarily to kick the ball
back in the direction it came from when it happened. The ladder
slipped just as Mick was making his descent; it crashed to
the ground with a loud bang, and Mick lay in a motionless
heap. Johnny stared at the lifeless figure open mouthed, he
looked like an animal in long grass scenting smoke in the
wind. "Oh God! oh God!" he repeated. "I was warned not to
leave the ladder." Mrs. Murphy bent over him in a state of
anxiety, "Get the doctor, and be quick."
The
doctor arrived in a very short time', and the onlookers stood
aside to give him space. He was new to the area young,' keen,
and efficient they said. He glanced at the patient and then
at the height from which he had fallen. With an apprehensive
shake of the head he said, "It doesn't look good, I think
he's dead." Then from the figure on the ground came first
a low rnoan, and then he spoke, "I'm not dead, he groaned.
Suddenly finding his voice, Johnny piped up, "Oh, will
you shut up, do you think you know better than the doctor."
