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Thin Oi says, says Oi, 'O'Toole, ye miserable divvil, av ye don't git aven wid thot foine young gint, ye ought to be hanged fer a shnake. Oi knew ye would be thrapped thot same noight, Misther Merriwell, an' Oi rode loike th' ould bhoy to cut yez off an' get me finger in the poie. You remimber pwhat happened."
"All roight me bhoy," said the Irishman, rising. "Oi'll do jist pwhat ye say; but don't yez be afther lettin' thim carry off th' girrul whoile Oi'm spinding toime this way.
"I remember that you aided me to escape from the hands of Del Norte and his paid desperadoes," nodded Frank. "An' got mesilf disloiked fer it. Oi knew Dil Noort would be ready to cut me throat on soight. Oi thought th' safest thing wur to hilp capture Dil Noort, an' thot's pwhat took me here, pwhere Oi arrived just in toime to hilp in the search fer Misther Shcott."
"Wid these two oies mesilf saw ye lave three hours gone, sor, and I c'u'd swear no sowl had intered this house since thin. Pwhat does ut all mane, be all thot's holy?" "It means," panting, "brandy and soda, O'Hagan, and be quick." Maitland attempted to rise, but his legs gave under him, and he sank back with a stifled oath, resigning himself to wait the return of normal conditions.
Gimme time.... There they are. Go ahead." "Hello, hello!" "Pwhat is ut?" Her heart sank: O'Hagan's voice meant that Maitland was out. "O'Hagan is that you?... Tell Mr. Maitland " "He's gawn out for the noight an' " "Tell him, please " "But he's out. Ring up in the marnin'." "But can't you take this message for him? Please...."
Th' divvils pwhat shtole th' girrul can't git away, fer Merriwell has tilegraphed it all over this parrut av th' counthry, an' it's big rewards he has offered fer th' apprehinsion av th' rascals. Whin th' shtorm comes, Ben, ye want to git out from under. There'll be a terrible crash, moind pwhat Oi say." "Ben him git big money for what him do."
"Why, Frank said you shot him through the head." "Oi did thot, but whin we returned to th' hut pwhere he was it's up an' gone he had." "Frank says the body was carried off by his friends." "Mebbe it wur, Oi dunno; but whoy th' ould scratch they wur afther takin' all thot throuble an' risk is pwhat bates me.
"Pwhat does it say?" asked the young Irishman, Harry O'Connell, who had covered Cary with his carbine. "'Tis a precious bit of paper, bedad if it passes him through me." "It says: 'Pass Virginia Cary and escort through all Federal lines, and assist them as far as possible in reaching Richmond," read the Corporal. Deep in thought he turned the paper over and studied the name on the back.
You know those two old horse-pistols that are hung up for relics in the armory?" "Yis." "Go for them yourself, or send somebody who can get them immediately." "Pwhat do yez want wid thim?" "I will show you, if I can make my scheme work." "Oi belave Oi know," chuckled the fun-loving Irish lad. "Mursha! Won't thot be fun, Oi dunno! Oi'll hiv thim roight away," and off he darted.
His bist friend saw ye in your canoe afther ye shtarted wid th' girrul. Ye're in fer it, Ben, me bhoy, onliss ye turrun roight-about-face an' do pwhat ye can fer th' girrul an' to have the indacint rascals pwhat shtole her poonished." "Sit down," invited the redskin, motioning toward the ground at his side. "We talk it over." O'Toole accepted the invitation and squatted on the ground.
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