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"I don't belave it," said Sweeny. "He'd be in more rispactable bizniss. It's me opinyin the divil made um for a joke on the rest av us. An' it's me opinyin he made this whole counthry for the same rayson." "The priest'll tell ye God made all men, Sweeny." "They ain't min at all. Thim crachurs ain't min. They're nagurs, an' a mighty poor kind at that. I hate um. I wish they was all dead.
I'm playin' the part av a steppin'-stone betwixt the two. Afther they've larned to lift their sowls to Higgins, they'll be able to go a bit higher, say to the saints first, an' thin to the blissid Vargin, an' so on, wan step at a time, till they've got the whole av it. But it'll be mortial slow, I'm doubtin'. I may have to bear an' forbear as I am for an intire gineration av the poor crachurs."
After threading hills for hours they came out upon a wide, rolling basin prettily diversified by low spurs of the encircling mountains and bluish green with the long grasses known as pin and grama. A few deer and antelopes, bounding across the rockier places, were an aggravation to starving men who could not follow them. "Why don't we catch some o' thim flyin' crachurs?" demanded Sweeny.
It's been a drame av mine to begin my prefarmint as biship av some far-away continent or archypilago, like, an' convart slathers av haythins an' cannebals for a practice. It ud plase me imagenation to prache among corrils an' coky-nuts an' naked crachurs.
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