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"It's a great relafe to hear your foine, musical voice wance more! Wait a minute unthil Oi open th' dure." The door was unlocked and thrown open. O'Toole stood with a rifle in his hands, looking pale and agitated. Around his waist was a belt holding a pair, of pistols and a knife. "What's the matter, man?" asked Hatch. "You look like a walking arsenal?"
Nivver a bit did Oi drame th' drunk aslape on th' flure av th' hut an' shnorin' away wur yersilf, Misther Merriwell. Aven whin Oi lay chlose to yez an' ye began to untoie me bonds Oi couldn't suspict it was yersilf. Whin Dil Noort showed up Oi knew it meant throuble, an' sure it wur a relafe to feel in me hand th' pistol ye put there.