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"Divvle a shmell of the baste can I see, and me back from furlough-leaf for minnuts. Has the schamer done the two-shtep widout anny flure, as Oi've always foretould? Is ut atin' his vegetables by the roots he now is in the bone-orchard, and me owing the poor bhoy foive shillin'? Where is he?"
Put two an' two togither an' Oi've towld ye nothin' at all; but av ye fergit ut Oi'll see that phwat th' wolves lave av th' bum-legged teamster is buried proper an' buried deep, an' Oi'll blow in tin dollars f'r a mass f'r his sowl.
"Him that c'd lay down th' naygers in windrows all day, an' dhrink, an' play car-rds, an' make love all noight an' at 'em agin in th' marnin'! An' now Oi've found um Oi'll shtay by um till wan av us burries th' other. For whilst a McKim roams th' earth James Dunnigan's place is to folly um. "An', Lord be praised, he's a foightin' man but a McKim that don't dhrink! Wurrah!
An' as fer th' tin cup he'd dhrink from a batthered tomaty can or a lady's shlipper, an' rasp th' dhregs from his t'roat wid a cur-rse or a song, as besht fitted th' toime or th' place he was in." The old man began to pour out the liquor: "Say phwin," he cried, "an' Oi've yit to see th' McKim 'twud hurry th' wor-rd."
Oi'm me own housekaper, cook, an' bottle-washer; but, av Oi do say ut mesilf, Oi've seen wor-rse!" "So you are Daddy Dunnigan?" asked Bill as he gazed hungrily upon the steaming saucers of oatmeal, the sizzling ham, and the yellow globes of fresh eggs fried "sunny side up." "Ye'll take a wee nip befoor ye eat?" asked his host, reaching to the chimney-shelf for a squat, black bottle.
In half an hour he'll be clost around Burrage's shtove, tellin' th' b'ys about th' bur-rnt shack at Melton's." Bill resumed his chair. "Oi've been thinkin' ut out," continued Daddy, between short puffs at his cutty-pipe. "Ye'll have no fun lickin' Creed 'tis shmall satisfaction foightin' a man that won't foight back. An-ny-how, a black eye or a bloody nose is soon minded.
Oi'm a poor cotton-weyver, as mony a one knoowas, Oi've nowt for t' yeat, an' oi've worn eawt my clooas, Yo'ad hardly gi' tuppence for aw as oi've on, My clogs are both brosten, an' stuckings oi've none, Yo'd think it wur hard, To be browt into th' warld, To be clemmed,* an' do th' best as yo con.
"Ah," responded the fortune-teller, "if he sought me I would know him. He has simply accompanied you as a sightseer. Now, Captain, what can I do for you?" "How ye know me, Lucinda, is morn than Oi can comprehend, Oi've often heard av ye. As ye know me ye must be aware av me business an' can also tell phat Oi'm here fur."
"Niver wuz such a crew in th' woods, miss," boasted Daddy Dunnigan one afternoon as Ethel stood in the door of the cook-shack and watched the old man's preparation of the gigantic supper. "Oi've logged a bit, here an' there, an' always Oi've be'n where min wuz but niver Oi've seed 'em buckle down an' tear out th' bone, wan day wid another, save in th' so'gerin' days av Captain Fronte McKim.
"It's this Oi've been waintin' f'r many a day, an' now by the powers Oi'll be takin' the life of yez, so Oi will." His threat would undoubtedly have been carried out, for Perault was bent far back, his face was black, and his tongue protruded from his wide opens mouth. But at this moment the door opened and Shock quietly stepped in.
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