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Put your'll wait a few, and you'll pe seeing as well as herself. Och, her poy! her poy! O m'anam! Ta Lort pe praised! and she'll tie in peace, for he'll pe only ta one half of him a Cam'ell, and he'll pe safed at last, as sure as there's a heafen to co to and a hell to co from.
But it's ta young and ta strong she is pringing home to Tuncan. O m'anam, beannuich!" Involuntarily all eyes turned towards the point called the Death's Head, which bounded the bay on the east. "It's ower dark to see onything," said the man on the window sill. "Yes," said Duncan, "it'll pe too tark for you who haf cot no eyes only to speak of.
At this question old Turlough rose on his elbow, and in his wide, gray eyes was set mingled fear and wonder. "M'anam an diaoul!" he spat out. "Who are you to know this thing?" "Answer my question," returned Brian, hiding his own surprise. "Seven years ago, master, I was at Sligo Bay with O'Dowda when Hamilton cut us to pieces.
Was there any stead near by?" "None," replied the man, who trembled with something more than cold. "M'anam go'n Dhia! She was a witch woman, or worse, Turlough Wolf. She leaped out of the snow in my path, told me to bear that skin to Yellow Brian, and vanished in a burst of fire. How could she not have been a devil?" "Nonsense!" grunted Turlough, though he suddenly laid the strip of skin down.
In the lull he flung a wan smile at Cathbarr, who stood leaning on his ax, his mail-shirt shredded and bloody. "Are you getting your fill of battle, brother?" "Aye," grinned the giant, "and we had best swim for it in another minute or the ship look! M'anam an diaoul! Look!" At his excited yell Brian turned, as a ball whistled between them.
Here there was a landing-place of hewn stone, with a gate lying open beyond it, and armed men waiting. One of these, from his bunch of huge keys and air of authority, Brian knew for the seneschal. "M'anam go'n Dhia!" he growled, peering down into the boat as it ground on the stone, "what fish have you there?" "Two salmon and ten herring, Muiertach," laughed one of the men.
All the delicate names in the 'Newgate Calendar, if ye ever heard of such a book; all the hang-dog names in the Newgate histories, and the lives of Irish rogues, did we call each other his reverence and I! Suddenly, however, putting out his hand, he seized the cards, saying, 'I will examine these cards, ye cheating scoundrel! for I believe there are dirty marks on them, which ye have made in order to know the winning cards. 'Give me back my pack, said I, 'or m'anam on Dioul if I be not the death of ye! His reverence, however, clapped the cards into his pocket, and made the best of his way to the door, I hanging upon him.
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