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Updated: June 10, 2025
They quickly dug another long, narrow hole. Then, taking a rude stretcher, they plodded away in the direction of a dilapidated tent that appeared to be the only structure left of Benton. Casey entered ahead of his comrade. "Thot's sthrange!" "Wot?" queried McDermott. "Didn't yez kiver her face whin we laid her down here?" "Shure an' I did, Casey."
"Thot blast didn't make much racket," commented Tim Sullivan. "I doubt thot much rock come down. An' thot's not sayin' anythin' ag'in yer powder, lad," he went on to Tom. "Oh, that's all right," Tom Swift replied, with a laugh. "My explosive doesn't work by sound. It has lots of power, but it doesn't produce much concussion."
"I told you no such thing, you stupid creature! I said if a bonnet came, to put it on the bed." "Och! sorry a word did ye iver say about a bonnet, mum. It's the first time I iver heard ony thing about a bonnet from yer blessed lips. And thot's thrue." "Where is my bonnet, then? Did one come home?" "Plase, mum, and there did. And a purty one it is, too, as iver my two eyes looked upon."
He turned to the window ledge by the stable door where, among a confusion of cobwebs and dusty bottles and tin cans, the drench of turpentine and linseed oil, the little phial of chlorodyne, and the clean tin pannikin with its wide protruding mouth, stood ready, all gleaming in the lantern light, forgotten since the day before. "Thot's the stoof. Will yo halp me give it 'er, doctor?" "All right.
The postman whistled, long and low. "It's just what owd Wrottesley'd tell on," he said. "I never nob'but half believed him then I do now though. D'yo' mind what th' owd lad'd tell, Master?" James Moore nodded. "Thot's it. I've never seen the like afore myself, but I've heard ma grandad speak o't mony's the time.
"That's doing the work!" cried Job Titus. "It beats any two blasts we ever set off," declared his brother. "Much fine!" muttered the Peruvian foreman, Serato. "It's a lalapaloosa, lad! Thot's what it is!" enthusiastically exclaimed Tim Sullivan. "Now the black beggars will have some rock to shovel! Come on there, Serato, git yer lazy imps t' work cartin' this stuff away.
"There's more than mae and Assy thot's freetened t' marry yo," she said. He darkened. "Yo 'oald yore tongue. Yo dawn't knaw what yo're saayin', my laass." "Dawn't I? There's more than mae thot knaws, Mr. Greatorex. Assy isn't t' awnly woon yo've maade talk o' t' plaace." "What do yo mane? Speaak oop. What d'yo mane Yo knaw?" "Yo'd best aassk Naddy.
Another time she asked about Newcastle. "Coals an' coal-dust thot's all. No a nice sutty. I lost two Chinks there, stokers the both of them. An' the owners paid a fine tull the Government of a hundred pounds each for them.
Then came a gun-shot, the snort of a horse, a loud laugh. Neale heard all with sensitive, recording ears. "Mac, yez are so dom' smart now tell me who built the U. P.?" demanded Pat. "Thot's asy. Me fri'nd Casey did, b'gorra," retorted McDermott. "Loike hell he did! It was the Irish." "Shure, thot's phwat I said," McDermott replied. "Wal, thin, phwat built the U. P.? Tell me thot.
'No, no, no, a conspiracy connected with his school; I'll explain it presently. 'Thot's reeght! said John, 'explain it arter breakfast, not noo, for thou be'est hoongry, and so am I; and Tilly she mun' be at the bottom o' a' explanations, for she says thot's the mutual confidence. Ha, ha, ha! Ecod, it's a room start, is the mutual confidence!
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