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"Who brought me here to-night? fwhy, thin, I'll tell you as much of it as I like He did." "Be japers it's a lie, beggin' your pardon, my worthy Cannaught man. He couldn't be here to-night. I know where he was the greater part of the night, and the thing's impossible. I don't know you, but we must know you ay, and we will know you."
So, being fwhat I am, an' knowin' fwhat I know, that's fwhy I say in this shootin'-case here, Mackie that's dead an' in hell is the lucky man. There are times, Sorr, whin 'tis betther for the man to die than to live, an' by consequince forty million times betther for the woman." "H'up there!" said Ortheris. "It's time to go."
The young savages, as usual, after the vagabond depredations or mischievous exercises of the day, were snoring as we have described them before; when Teddy, whom no quantity of liquor could affect beyond a mere inveterate hardness of brogue and an indescribable effort at mirth and melody, exclaimed "Fwhy, dhen, dat's the stuff; and here's bad luck to him that paid fwor it."
"Fwhat? fwhy so much the worsher for you an' me: he's ginerous now an' den, anyway; but a great rogue afther all, fwher so high a hid as he carries." "If I don't mistake," proceeded Hogan, "either himself or his family, anyhow, will be talked of before this time to-morrow." "Eh, Batt?" asked the other, who had changed his position and sat beside him during this dialogue "how is dhat now?"
"Shiss, I tell you to be sure I won't he thried her afore, though." "Nonsense! no he didn't." "Ah, ha! ay dhin an' she milked well too a good cow a brave cheehony she was for him." "An' why did he give it up?" "Fwhy fwhy, afeard he'd be diskivered, to be sure; an' dhin shure he couldn't hunt wid de dinnaousais wid de gentlemans." "An' what if he's discovered now?"
Fwhy shud I kape a dog an' du me own barkin'? An' thin he'll think betther av ut an' chunt 'Poppycock, all poppycock! . . . As you were, Sarjint' an' thin he'll call in Kilbride. Eh! fwhat yez laughin' at, yeh fules?" he queried irritably.
"Fwhy nat? it's but fair, it's but fair, I say, take that wit j'ou, an' I'm the boy that will answer it, if I can, bekaise you know, or maybe you don't but it's a proverb we have in Cannaught wit us that a fool may ax a question that a wise man couldn't answer: well, what is it?" "Who brought you here to-night?"
Fwhy, now, miss, if you were beyant wit us, sarra ounce o' gunpqwdher we'd have in no time, for love or money." "Upon my word I should like to see Ireland!" exclaimed the blue-stocking; "but why would the gunpowder get scarce, pray?"
"Fwhy thin, miss, 'twas to a brother o' my own I was bringing it, that was livin' down the counthry here, an' fwhin I came to fwhere he lived, the sarra one o' me knew the place, in regard o' havin' forgotten the name of it entirely, an' there was I wit the poor crathur an my hands, till his haner here bought it from me Gad bless you, sir!"
"That's how th' man's throuble shtarted. Brought ut all on umsilf. Course at th' toime, fwhy! she slapped th' face av um an' called um all manner av harrd names but, all th' same! she must have liked ut, for while they was convalescin' she was everlashtingly sendhin Nobby notes an' flowers an' such like.
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