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"No, we're being towed." "Towed! Towed!" exclaimed Smith in a weak voice. "What's towing us?" "We don't know, sor," replied a cockney. There was a silence in which Caradoc stood tall and cadaverous as a ghost. "Am I dreaming this, Madden?" he muttered finally. "Did you say we were being towed?" "That's right." "What's towing us not not the dry dock don't say the dry dock's towing us!"
There was a silence at the anger in his tone, then Gaskin began very placatingly, "Hi'm not wishin' to chafe ye, sor, but th' dock is so big th' lads 'ave decided the sorpint is afraid o' th' dock."
"Ha! You kept your eye on those gentry, colonel, I bet you did?" "Yes, sir. They were the first I spotted when the row began; but I'm anticipating matters." "The divvle a bit, sor," interposed Garry O'Neil. "Let me jist change the dressin' of your leg, an' ye can polish off the rist of the rascals as soon as ye plaize."
"Yes, sor; thank you, sor." "Mr. Donald is ill in the company's hospital. We're afraid, Dan, that he isn't going to pull through." "Glory be!" Mr. O'Leary gasped, horrified on two counts. First, because he revered his young boss, and, second, because the latter's death might nullify his opportunity to become foreman of the loading-sheds and drying-yard. "Sure, what's happened to the poor bhoy?"
In the roar of laughter which followed Duffer perceived he had been vanquished and in some confusion he sat down, while his victor proceeded: "The offince minshuned in me riserlooshuns is a blow at the daily brid av us all, sor.
Nino could not sit still, and went and leaned over Sor Ercole, as we call the maestro, hanging on the notes, not daring to try and sing, for he had lost his voice, but making the words with his lips. "Dio mio!" he cried at last, "how I wish I could sing that!" "Try it," said De Pretis, laughing and half interested by the boy's earnest look. "Try it I will sing it again." But Nino's face fell.
He laid a tin box which he had with him upon the table, and shook hands with Sor Tommaso. Then he slipped behind the table and sat down close to his host, as a precautionary measure in case the play should be resumed. Stefanone would have had a bad chance of being dangerous, if the powerful Scotchman chose to hold him down. But the peasant seemed to have become as suddenly peaceful as the doctor.
It was madness for a wounded man and a girl to attempt to reach Torre Garda through a pass held by the enemy. But Sor Teresa said nothing. Marcos sat motionless in the saddle. His face was above the radius of the reversed carriage-lamp, while Juanita standing on the dusty road in her nun's dress looking up at him, was close to the glaring light.
"Be jabers, sor!" exclaimed the Irishman in his very broadest brogue and with a comical grin on his face that certainly must have eclipsed that of which he complained in the professor of his college who had caught him and his fellow-student trespassing on his medical preserves.
"To the thief, sor, av coorse, who was standin' tremblin' fornint him, while the sexton was diggin' the grave to putt him in alive in the dark shadow of a big tombstone." The Irishman had now almost reached the climax of his story, and was intensely graphic in his descriptions especially at the horrible parts.
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