[He goes; Widow Quin hides poteen behind counter. Then hubbub
outside.]
VOICES. There you are! Good jumper! Grand lepper! Darlint boy! He's the
racer! Bear him on, will you! [Christy comes in, in Jockey's dress, with
Pegeen Mike, Sara, and other girls, and men.]
PEGEEN -- [to crowd.] -- Go on now and don't destroy him and he drenching with
sweat. Go along, I'm saying, and have your tug-of-warring till he's dried his
skin.
CROWD. Here's his prizes! A bagpipes! A fiddle was played by a poet in the
years gone by! A flat and three-thorned blackthorn would lick the scholars
out of Dublin town!
CHRISTY -- [taking prizes from the men.] -- Thank you kindly, the lot of you.
But you'd say it was little only I did this day if you'd seen me a while since
striking my one single blow.
TOWN CRIER -- [outside, ringing a bell.] -- Take notice, last event of this
day! Tug-of-warring on the green below! Come on, the lot of you! Great
achievements for all Mayo men!
PEGEEN. Go on, and leave him for to rest and dry. Go on, I tell you, for
he'll do no more. (She hustles crowd out; Widow Quin following them.)
MEN -- [going.] -- Come on then. Good luck for the while!
PEGEEN -- [radiantly, wiping his face with her shawl.] -- Well, you're the
lad, and you'll have great times from this out when you could win that wealth
of prizes, and you sweating in the heat of noon!
CHRISTY -- [looking at her with delight.] -- I'll have great times if I win
the crowning prize I'm seeking now, and that's your promise that you'll wed me
in a fortnight, when our banns is called.
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