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Havin' rescued ye fr'm th' jaws iv death two or three times befure whin ye had a sick headache th' Dock takes his time about comin', but just as ye are beginnin' to throw ye'er boots at th' clock an' show other signs iv what he calls rigem mortar, he rides up in his fine horse an' buggy. He gets out slowly, one foot at a time, hitches his horse an' ties a nose bag on his head.
"Well, boys," said the latter, "what's the fun?" "Devil a thing but a girl we're helpin' a boy to take away. What's your own sport?" "Begorra, we wor in luck to-night; we got as party a double-barrelled gun as ever you seen, an' a case of murdherin' fine pistols." "Success, ould heart! that's right; we'll be able to stand a tug whin the 'Day' comes."
He roared, as, perhaps, he had never roared before: "Are ye all gone mad-mad-mad? I was jokin' wid ye, whin I called ye this or that.
We was breast-on to thim, an' the Tyrone was yelpin' behind av us in a way I didn't see the lean av at first. But I knew later, an' so did the Paythans. "Knee to knee!" sings out Crook, wid a laugh whin the rush av our comin' into the gut shtopped, an' he was huggin' a hairy great Paythan, neither bein' able to do anything to the other, tho' both was wishful.
An' if we get a Parlimint for ourselves, 'tis because he daren't for the life of him say No an' divil thank him. Yes, we'll take the bill; what else will we do? We can amend it whin once we get it. But afther so much jumpin', owld Gladstone's a man I wouldn't thrust. A man that would make so many changes isn't to be thrusted.
"Well, binaght lath, a rogarah!* Tell him the thruth to be game, an' he'll find you an' me sweeled together whin he comes out, plase Goodness." * My blessing be with you, you rogue! Phelim was but a few minutes gone, when the old military cap of Fool Art projected from the little bed-room, which a wicker wall, plastered with mud, divided from the other part of the cabin. "Is he gone?" said Art.
"Furst boat thet cums 'long. They skipped out night afore las', but we cotched 'em all right. Yer goin' back on this steamer?" "Not me; I'm goin' fer ter enlist whin we git ter Yellow Banks. Thar's a heap more fun in thet, then steam-boatin'."
"This same Andrews as is forrads in irons was running the Starbuck with Jameson as mate, an' old Garnett as second under him. Ye all know that old pirit. But this time he didn't have any hand in Andrews's game. Andrews wanted to marry the girl Jameson had, an' whin he found he had lost her he played his devil's trick.
Whin he finds all them balls an' rainbows an' eddicated secrets, he forgets iverything else; he's contint wit 'his discovery. 'Tis th' wise head th' doctor has; an' Oi make no doobt he's th' real Jarados." The red-haired man went on to say that the professor knew of Chick's coming from the beginning.
"Has she any sisters?" enquired Joe Dumsby eagerly, as Ned folded the letter and replaced it in his pocket. "Six of 'em," replied Ned; "every one purtier and better nor another." "Is it a long way to Galway?" continued Joe. "Not long; but it's a coorious thing that Englishmen never come back from them parts whin they wance ventur' into them."
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