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morning.’
    The night passed uneventfully and when the morning came they were all present and correct. None of them had been spirited away by the little people, in spite of any private fears they might have had! Yet even the light of day, they found, couldn’t wipe away the stark reality of what they had overheard at the campfire. Furthermore, as they walked slowly past the camp now, they could see no sign of the green van with the cream-coloured caravan, or for that matter the pony and trap.
    â€˜If only we could have got the number of the van,’ said Tapser.
    â€˜At least we know it’s green,’ said Cowlick.
    Róisín held up the palms of her hand to reveal smudges of green paint where she had leaned against the van the night before. ‘It’s green now, but for how long?’
    â€˜So where do we go from here?’ wondered Cowlick. ‘The island?’
    â€˜Rachel and I have been talking this business over,’ Róisín told him. ‘And we think that before we go to the island or anywhere else, we should go to the police and tell them what we know.’
    â€˜We could tell Martin,’ Jamesie suggested. ‘He’s stationed in a village not far from here.’
    They all agreed that this was the best thing to do, so they yoked Nuadha up to the caravan and off they went.

4. BEYOND THE CROSS

    The sight of a horse-drawn caravan in the village wasn’t unusual, but it was unusual to see one pulling up outside the garda station. As Jamesie remarked, the travelling people usually tried to stay as far away from the police as possible. Martin wasn’t in, but there was another garda on duty, a big burly man with a ruddy face, and they decided the matter was urgent enough to tell him.
    After writing laboriously in a big ledger for a few minutes, the garda closed the book, took off his glasses, leaned across the counter and asked, ‘Now, what seems to be the trouble?’
    In the end, maybe the real trouble was that they all tried to tell him about their Uncle Pakie at the same time. Jamesie was talking about him being held by the little people, Róisín was talking about him being taken to the fairy queen, Rachel was talking about fairies and witches, Cowlick was talking about an enchanted island, and Tapser was talking in riddles!
    The garda was mesmerised, and no wonder. He put up his big hands to signal them to stop. ‘Fairies!’ he said. ‘Witches! Enchanted islands!’ and he started to roar with laughter.
    â€˜Honestly,’ protested Jamesie, ‘we’re telling the truth. They said the little people have him.’
    â€˜Jamesie,’ said the garda, still shaking with laughter, ‘if it wasn’t that you’re Martin’s brother, I’d arrest you for wasting garda time. Now off with you before I change my mind.’
    The garda opened his ledger again. His big stomach was still heaving with laughter, and he was chuckling, ‘Fairies and witches! Begobs that’s a good one.’
    â€˜Anyway, will you tell Martin what I said?’ asked Jamesie from the doorway.
    The garda laughed again. ‘Oh, have no fear, I’ll tell him all right. Now off with you. And Jamesie, if you see any more little people will you bring me one? I could do with a new pair of boots and I believe they’re good at that sort of thing.’ Then he almost collapsed with laughter at his own joke.
    â€˜Very funny,’ said Jamesie sourly as they climbed back onto the caravan. ‘By the looks of him he doesn’t wear out many pairs of boots.’
    â€˜Don’t worry,’ said Róisín, ‘we’ll think of something else.’
    They were all very disappointed that the garda hadn’t taken them seriously, and after getting some bread in a local shop they headed back to the Corrib. On the way they met several big lorries carrying all the colourful props of the carnival Big Jim had told them