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Updated: June 3, 2025
"Yes, a little." "I knowed thot.... All roight, I'll die with ye, thin." In half an hour Pat was in despair again. He had to rest. "Phwat's ye're name?" he queried. "Neale." "It ought to be Casey. Fer there was niver but wan loike ye an' he was Casey.... Mon, ye're sweatin' blood roight now!" Pat pointed at Neale's red, wet shirt.
Oi'll be goin' down th' thrail a piece an' see phwat's to see. Oi ain't axin' ye to go 'long. Ye poor prayer-dhrivlin' haythen, wid yer limon av a hear-rt ye've got a yallar shtripe that raches to th' length an' width av ye. Ye'd be no good nohow. "But 'tis mesilf ain't fearin' th' evil eye av th' werwolf an' she is called be the name av th' divil's own. "But listen ye here, ye pea-soup Frinchy!
He motioned her with a disdainful movement of the elbow to take it away. Would Maloney never come! He was coming, hat in hand, and running for dear life across the potato-paddock. Behind him was his man. Behind his man Sal, out of breath. Behind her, Mrs. Maloney and the children. "Phwat's the thrubble?" cried Maloney. "Bit be a dif adher? O, be the tares of war!"
"Phwat's this?" he inquired of Elerson "a Frinch cooroor, or maybe a Sac shquaw in a buck's shirrt?" "Don't introduce him to me," said Mount to Elerson; "he'll try to kiss my hand, and I hate ceremony." "Quit foolin'," said Elerson, as the two big, over-grown boys seized each other and began a rough-and-tumble frolic.
They fell to cheering. Voices arose in confusion. "Vulcan ahoy! Vulcan ah-o-oy!" they bellowed in an effort to span the miles with human ices. "Say, lads, she ain't movin'!" cried someone making the surprising discovery. "Faith and phwat's th' matter with her now?" exclaimed Hogan in exasperated wonder. A silence fell over the boisterous group.
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