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Thunder an' lightnin', woman, who am I?" he exclaimed, in a loud, but rather infirm voice. "Am n't I Neal Malone, that never met a MAN who'd fight him? Neal Malone, that was never beat by MAN! Why, tare an' ouns, woman! Whoo! I'll get enraged some time, an' play the divil! Who's afeard, I say?" "DON'T GO," added the wife a third time, giving Neal a significant look in the face.
Quicker than thought, quicker than the lightning's flash, fifty monkish habits disappeared, and fifty knights in splendid armor stood revealed! fifty falchions gleamed in air above the men-at-arms, and brighter, fiercer than them all, flamed Excalibur aloft, and cleaving downward struck the brutal Leonardo's weapon from his grasp! "A Luigi to the rescue! Whoop!" "A Leonardo! 'tare an ouns!"
At the same time he inwardly chuckled over his gentle repartee to the blood and ouns champion about his god being a jew. People could put up with being bitten by a wolf but what properly riled them was a bite from a sheep. The most vulnerable point too of tender Achilles. Your god was a jew.
Now that my business is past, let me hear yours, poor fellow, an' I'm devilish glad to know, Connor, that that why, tunder an' ouns, that you're not as I am. Be the crass that saved us, Connor, I'm glad of that!" "Why, love will set you mad, Bartle, if you don't take care of yourself; an', faith, I dunna but it may do the same with myself, if I'm disappointed.
"'Now, no more of your palaver, Misther Connor, says the cat; 'just be off and get me the shoes." "'Tare an' ouns! says Tom, 'what'll become o' me if I'm to get shoes for my cats? says he, 'for you increase your family four times a year, and you have six or seven every time, says he; 'and then you must all have two pair a piece wirra! wirra! I'll be ruined in shoe-leather, says Tom.
"An' is it manin' yez, I am?" retorted my interlocutor sharply. "Tare an' 'ouns, av coorse it is! Who ilse should I mane?"
"I'd not be in your skin for a trifle," interrupted Quilt, who having secured Sheppard, and delivered him to Abraham, now approached them unawares; "and it shan't be my fault if he don't hear of it." "'Ouns!" ejaculated Terence, in alarm, "would you turn snitch on your old pal, Quilt?" "Ay, if he plays a-cross," returned Quilt. "Come along, my sly shaver.
Something's in the wind." So saying, the speaker rolled himself on his breast, bringing his head to the dish. "Och! the mane haythins!" cried Chane, following the example set by his comrade; "to make dacent men ate like brute bastes! Och! murder an' ouns!" "Come, Captain; shall we feed?" asked Clayley. "Go on. Do not wait for me," I replied. Now was my time to read the note.
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