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Suddenly he leaped forward and clutched Mullan at the throat, shaking him violently. "Answer now. Hware'd you get your liquor? Didn't this fellow give it to you?" "On my honor no, sarsh'nt, 'pon my 'on " "Oh, to hell with your honor and you with it! Hware'd you get it if it wasn't from him? Shure you've not been near Ceralvo's?" "No, sarsh'nt, no Ceralvo's.
With the ponderous dignity of inebriety, Mullan slowly pointed up the desert under the spot where the pole-star glowed in the northern skies. "Sarsh'nt," he hiccoughed, "we're we're too late; 'Paches got there first." "Hwat! hwat!" thundered Feeny. "D'ye mean there were women, that it wasn't a plant?" "Fack." "Hware's your despatches, you drunken lout?
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