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Where do you spend your spare time?" "On Traity Island," replied Mike with a grin. "I doesn't like Kinsington afther dark. They say it has ghosts, sur." "But only the ghosts of they killed as they crossed from Treaty Island." "Sure enough! But I've lost belafe in ghosts since they have become so common.
After the danger we had run of being poisoned by the roots Pat had dug up, we were afraid of trying others, for neither of us was certain which were wholesome and which poisonous, they both looked so much alike. We were passing the border of a small wood, when Pat gave a shout. "It's my belafe there's the remains of a camp-fire," he exclaimed, pointing to a spot a little distance off.
Having no fancy to be drowned, I made a leap on to the rock, and shouting to my companions to follow, with many a hop, skip, and jump, managed to reach the shore; but when I looked out for the rest of us, I could nowhere see them. I shouted again and again, but they did not answer. My belafe is that they were all carried away and drowned.
I'd have no pride left in me if I could think I had a pretindin' b'y about the house. And now, Moike, I'll teach you to cook. It's my belafe you can larn it. Why, Pat didn't know nothin' about it when he begun, and now he can cook meat and potatoes and such better as many a doless girl I've seen. You think Pat's cookin' tastes pretty good, don't you, Moike?"
"It's my belafe," whispered Barney, "that they're spakin' about us. I'm afeard they don't mean us any good. Och but if I wance had my pistol and the ould cutlass. Well, well, it's of no manner o' use frettin'. Good night Martin, good night!" The Irishman knocked the ashes out of his pipe, turned his face to the wall, and, heaving a deep sigh, speedily forgot his cares in sleep.
As far as the beds could be moved, they were moved, and around them and under them went Mike's busy broom. Mike was warm-blooded, and it was a pretty red-faced boy that stood at last before his mother with the dustpan in his hand. There was strong approval on the little woman's face. "Pat himsilf couldn't 'a' beat that. It's my belafe you've got a gift for swapin'," she said.
"It's my belafe we should have bate them off, if it hadn't been for that thafe of the world, Routh, and the other villains. By the powers! if I ever get the chance, I'll make him repint his treachery; but as you have escaped, captin dear, the rest matthers but little to my mind in comparison."
"It's my belafe," whispered Barney, "that they're spakin' about us. I'm afeard they don't mean us any good. Och, but if I wance had my pistol and the ould cutlass. Well, well, it's of no manner o' use frettin'. Good-night, Martin, good-night!" The Irishman knocked the ashes out of his pipe, turned his face to the wall, and, heaving a deep sigh, speedily forgot his cares in sleep.
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