[Transcriber's Note: This etext was produced from
Fantastic Universe March 1960.
Extensive research did not uncover any evidence that
the U.S. copyright on this publication was renewed.]
The evening crowd had thinned at Moriarty's in South Bend, and onlythe regulars were left, a small group at one end of the dark oak bar,chatting quietly. At that moment a short gaunt man entered, and in avery thick brogue ordered a glass of Tullamore Dew. Finishing his drinkhe sighed deeply and put a thick manila envelope on the bar. He sighedagain and at this Phineas O'Rourke put down his beer and remarked,"Sure now, that's the most mournful sound I've heard since the day megrandfather fell down the stairs with a case of the real Irish in hisarms; twelve bottles broken, it were."
The stranger turned toward Phineas, and his face had the haunted lookof a man who has looked upon some incredible catastrophe testing thevery limits of man's sanity and barely survived. Again he sighed,then lifted the envelope with his left hand and waved it vaguely inPhineas' direction. His voice broke as he spoke. "I had to, I reallyhad to. After all, as head of the department of research anthropologyat the university, I'm duty-bound to report this. But they wouldn'taccept it; in fact, they—politely, of course—suggested I take asabbatical until I got over it. I understand their position, andperhaps releasing this information would have a terrible effect onErin, but in the name of truth and science, it should be known."
At the mention of possible harm to the Emerald Isle, the whole groupperked up their ears, and John Gaffney politely asked, "Is it somethingyou could be telling us about? Sure and it's interested we'd be if ithas to do with Ireland." The rest of them nodded and added a chorus ofayes.
The sad-looking man sighed again, looked at his empty glass and,nodding to the bartender, to refill it, began opening the manilaenvelope.
"I suppose I ought to introduce myself first. I'm Paul Corscadden,assistant professor of anthropology. Though born in the old country,I was raised here in the midwest—caught between two cultures, as itwere."
At this point, the bartender, caught up in the unfolding of this tragicstory, commented, "But your brogue...."
"Yes, of course," interrupted the professor, "it returned during myfield trip to county Mayo three months ago. But that's getting aheadof the story. Here...." Reaching into the envelope, he took out amanuscript, "let me just read the article to you."
The bartender refilled all glasses as the group settled back, lightingpipes, to listen in intense curiosity tinged with dread somehowconveyed by the utter misery in Professor Corscadden's voice.
AN EXPLANATION FOR THE LUPRACAN PHENOMENON AS DISCOVERED IN ANINVESTIGATION OF THE CULTURE OF EIRE.
"Long considered to be wholly mythical, the little Irish elf, commonlyknown as the Leprechaun, has an enormous amount of folklore associatedwith it. Such tales as...." Here the professor interrupted and said,"This is unnecessary; I'm sure you all know the background to thisfield study; let me get to the crux of the matter." And turning to thelast pages in the manuscript, he began again.
"Perhaps the most universally known legend associated with Lupracanis that associated with the pot of gold each of the elves is supposedto possess. It has been rather universally observed among the nativesof this island, that if one captures one of these sprites, it willbeg desperately to be released. If the captor does not do so, itwill next resort to all sorts of trickery and magic. Failing this,t