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"I'll give ye ten golden guineas and the best filly that ever came out o' Strathendrick for that pistol." But I told him that the offer of Strathendrick itself would not buy it. "No?" said he. "Well, I won't say ye're wrong. A man should cherish his weapon like his wife, for it carries his honour."

His name's Williams; an' now if ye ain't too tired, perhaps ye'll tell us what they call ye to home." "Well, I'm Number Eleven, and my name's Williams, too." "Then, if yer name's Williams, an' ye're Number 'leven, ye want some supper. Set down an' help yerself." Before taking his seat, Yates turned laughingly to Mr. Benedict, shook his hand, and "hoped for a better acquaintance." Jim was puzzled.

"And what the devil are they saying about me?" "God forbid that I'd put down any dirty stain before your Honour," sobbed Mrs. Twomey, recurring to her earlier metaphor; "it's that big horse that ye're afther buyin' from Docthor Mangan; they say that he gave him to ye too cheap on the head of it "

Then cut me these bonds, and let us make an end of my present condition." "Faith, I am glad to deal with so sensible a man! Ye take it in the proper spirit. Ye see that what I ha' done I ha' but done in the way of my calling, that I am but a tool, and that what blame there be belongs to them which hired me to this deed." "Aye, ye're but a tool a dirty tool, whetted with gold; no more.

"Am I no longer the boss of my engine room? You'll sit here till I tell you to move! Damn Henshaw and his written orders!" "If you refuse to obey a written order, he can take your license away from you in any marine court." "Let it go." "Ah-h, chief, ye're afther bein' a thrue man an' a bould one, but I'd rather stay the rest av me life in the hole than let ye ruin yourself for me.

'Larry, sez I, 'how is ut wid you? "'Ye're callin' the wrong man, he sez, wid his gentleman's smile; 'Larry has been dead these three years. They call him "Love-o'- Women" now, he sez. By that I knew the ould divil was in him yet, but the ind av a fight is no time for the beginnin' av confession, so we sat down an' talked av times.

Trail said, at last, "the man wha lies here was a decent, pious auld country body, and I drove him to his meeserable death in the Cowgate." "Man, ye dinna ken what ye're sayin'!" was the shocked response. "Do I no'? I'm canny, by the ordinar', but my fule tongue will get me into trouble with the magistrates one of these days. It aye wags at both ends, and is no' tied in the middle."

Dreadful as was his foe in spirit, size, and strength, his manliness was too great for this. So he also dashed forward, and was the first to grasp the silk. "Are you going to rob the shop?" said he. "Is it rob?" said Mrs. Morony. "By the powers, thin, ye're the biggest blag-guard my eyes have seen since I've been in London, and that's saying a long word. Is it rob to me?

Jamie, his een full o' tears, had aye his suspicions of the doctor. But when he asked him, the doctor was said angry. "Hamper? What hamper?" he asked gruffly. That was when he was making a professional call. "Ye're a sentimental fule, Jamie Lowden, and I'd hae no hand in helpin' ye!

But to the obtuse man Sonny's action seemed nothing more than a mean and jealous effort to supplant the Kid. To the Kid this proceeding of Sonny's was a fine game. He would grapple with the dog, hug him, pound him gleefully with his little fists, and call him every pet name he knew. But the man would rise to his feet angrily, and cry, "If that's all ye're good fer, git! Git out, I tell ye!"