The Legend of the Phantom Highwayman by Tom McCaughren

mountainy men wouldn’t be bottling it like that,’ said Róisín, ‘from what I know of them.’
    â€˜Do you think that machine could be the big still Peppi was talking about?’ asked Tapser.
    â€˜Not at all,’ said Cowlick. ‘They don’t make poteen in a contraption like that. It would have to have a fire and barrels and all sorts of things, and anyway you’d smell it.’
    â€˜Do you still think we should have a look at Peppi’s caravan?’ asked Róisín.
    â€˜Why not?’ said Tapser. ‘Sure maybe he’s involved in this business too. He could be the contact man or anything up the mountain.’
    â€˜Could he have something to do with the appearance of Hugh Rua on the High Road?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜Well, as you say, he does seem to know a lot about this poteen business,’ said Tapser.
    â€˜But the police seem to think it’s Sam Stephenson or Blind Jack who are behind that,’ Rachel reminded them. ‘And they do know an awful lot about coaches and highwaymen.’
    That was true, the others had to admit, so they continued to turn the various possibilities over in their minds as they made their way back up to The Highwayman Inn.
    They could tell by the music and the general sound of merriment that the ceili was still in full swing, but there was still no sign of Peppi’s caravan so they sat down on the low wall and wondered what to do.
    Below them, the waves glistened in the moonlight as they rolled in and crashed against the rocks. They were almost like phantom white horses, thought Tapser, and as he looked down he couldn’t help feeling how strong and powerful they sounded, and how dark and lonely a place the beach seemed at night. ‘Are there many caves along the cliffs?’ he asked.
    â€˜There’s a lot of them all right,’ Cowlick told him. ‘But I never knew one of them went in under the Castle Spa.’
    â€˜Well, we’re going to have to do a bit of exploring the first chance we get,’ said Tapser.
    Cowlick glanced around. ‘I wonder where Peppi is? He said he would be here.’
    â€˜Did you ever think that’s a funny name for his caravan?’ said Rachel. ‘Pandora’s Box.’
    â€˜It’s a name given to a box full of all sorts of knick-knacks,’ Róisín told her.
    â€˜You mean, like mammy’s box of buttons and things?’
    â€˜I suppose so.’
    â€˜But where does it come from?’ asked Cowlick.
    â€˜From mythology,’ said Tapser, to everyone’s surprise, and he went on to explain, ‘My father bought a book once, about mythology. He wanted to read about Diana the huntress. And I remember there was something in it about Pandora.’
    â€˜That’s right,’ said Róisín. ‘I looked it up in my encyclopaedia. It’s a Greek story.’
    â€˜You didn’t tell me that,’ said Rachel reproachfully.
    â€˜Well I’m telling you now, amn’t I? It says the gods quarrelled, and one of them decided to send something down to men which would cause trouble. So he made a woman.’
    â€˜Huh, the cheek of them,’ said Rachel, ‘suggesting that women are the ones that cause trouble!’
    â€˜Go on,’ urged Cowlick impatiently. ‘What else did it say?’
    â€˜She was called Pandora, which means all-gifted, for the gods and goddesses gave her gifts to bring with her – beauty, charm and the art of flattery. But one present was a special box which she was forbidden to open. Of course, curiosity got the better of her, and when she opened it a swarm of winged monsters flew out. They were disease, anger, revenge … all the curses that left men miserable.’
    â€˜What did she do then?’ asked Tapser.
    â€˜She tried to close the box, but it was too late. They had all escaped and flown over the world, and only Hope was left.’
    â€˜Oh, I