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wouldn’t float off. Jamesie gave it an extra pull to make sure it was secure, and led the way up through the trees and bushes.
    â€˜Do you often come here?’ Rachel asked him.
    â€˜Not this island,’ he replied. ‘When we’re out for a day’s fishing with tourists we usually go to Inchagoill. It’s the largest island on the lake. We give them a picnic there and show them the old church and the gravestones, including the Stone of Lugna.’
    â€˜The what?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜The Stone of Lugna. Lugna was St Patrick’s navigator, or so Uncle Pakie says. He was also Patrick’s nephew, the son of his sister.’
    â€˜And is he really buried there?’ asked Rachel.
    Jamesie nodded. ‘So they say. You see, St Patrick founded the church there. Tradition has it that during his stay on the island, Lugna died, and was buried beside the church. His headstone is shaped like a ship’s rudder and the writing on it is said to be the oldest Christian inscription in Europe.’
    â€˜This is a very historical place then,’ said Róisín.
    They were approaching a small hillock on which grew a single hawthorn bush, and before Jamesie could answer he spotted something which made him stop and exclaim, ‘Look. Look at that.’
    There, for all to see, was a circle of freshly trampled grass around the hillock.
    Tapser shrugged. ‘Could have been cattle.’
    â€˜There are no cattle on this island,’ Jamesie told him.
    â€˜Goats then,’ suggested Cowlick.
    Jamesie shook his head. ‘The island’s deserted, or it’s supposed to be. No, there’s only one thing it can be. That’s a fairy thorn. The little people must have been dancing around it last night!’
    * * *
    Tapser sat with his back against the trunk of the Scots pine tree and looked out towards the lake. The sun still had a long way to go before it set. Small birds were singing and jackdaws were calling out to each other down at Pakie’s house. Beyond the trees he caught a glimpse of a swallow catching a butterfly in mid-flight, but his mind was on that strange circle on Illaun na Shee.
    â€˜It could have been anything,’ he said.
    â€˜I told you there’s nothing on it,’ Jamesie told him. ‘Nothing else that could have made it.’
    â€˜It could have been rabbits,’ Rachel suggested.
    Jamesie shook his head. ‘Anyway, you heard what the men said at the travellers’ camp last night about the little people and the fairy queen.’
    â€˜Maybe they meant something else when they said they would take him to the fairy queen,’ said Róisín.
    â€˜Like what?’ asked Jamesie.
    â€˜Well they could have been referring to a boat or something.’
    â€˜You mean a boat called the Fairy Queen ?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜Why not? It’s the sort of name you might see on a biggish boat, like a steamer or something.’
    â€˜Sure there are no boats like that on the Corrib now,’ Jamesie pointed out.
    â€˜Still,’ said Cowlick. ‘I think Róisín’s right. Just because everything seems to point one way doesn’t mean we should close our eyes to another.’
    â€˜Now that you mention it,’ said Tapser, ‘I thought I heard the sound of a boat’s engine last night, just before I went to sleep. I’m sure Prince heard it too.’
    â€˜I didn’t hear anything, except you three talking,’ said Rachel. ‘You kept me awake for ages.’
    Cowlick and Róisín indicated that they hadn’t heard anything either, and Jamesie said, ‘Nor I. Even if you did it could have been a car or lorry on the far side of the lake. Sound carries a long way on the water.’
    They were silent for a few minutes, then Jamesie said, ‘As a matter of fact there was a steamer on the Corrib once called the Fairy Queen .’
    â€˜There you are,’ said