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The two men therefore stood looking at each other in silent surprise for a few moments. "Big Chief," said Jarwin at last, bringing his right fist down heavily into his left palm, by way of emphasis, "there's no dibbil, as you call him, got possession o' me. My own spirit is dibbil enough, I find, to account for all that I've said and done an' a great deal more.
Clerk. Catty. We'll see we'll see all soon and the truth will come out, and shame the dibbil and the McBrides! Randal. Catty. What? Which? Where? True for ye! I was wondering I did not see the man you bet appear again ye: and this is he, with the head bound up in the garter, coming miserable cratur he looks who would he be? Randal. You'll see all soon, mother. Enter PAT COXE, his head bound up.
Big Chief made no reply for some moments, but opened his eyes with such an intense expression of unaffected amazement, that Jarwin's wrath abated, in spite of his careful nursing of it to keep it warm. "Jowin," he exclaimed at length, "you Christian Breetish tar, have your dibbil got into you?" This question effectually routed Jarwin's anger.