We wint to Misther Barnwell and plaided with him, and I was ready to break a shillalah over his head by way of convincin' him of the truth of me remarks, but it was no use.

He just grinned and shook his head.

The folks all seem to be afeard of him, as though he were St.Patrick or some other sensible gintleman, and so we comed on." "What made _you_ come ?" asked Sut, throwing his knee upon the saddle and looking down upon the Irishman.

"You could do as you choosed." "No, I could n't.

I hired out to Mr.Moonson for a year, and there ain't half a year gone yet, and I've got to stick to him till the time is up." "Whose little boy is that I seed standing by you ?" "That's Mr.Moonson's boy, Fred, one of the foinest, liveliest lads ye ever sot eyes on, and I'm much worried on his account." "Are his parents with you ?" "Naither of 'em." The hunter looked surprised, and the Irishman hastened to explain.
"I never knowed his mother--she havin' been dead afore I lift owld Ireland--and his father was taken down with a sort of fever a week ago, when we was t'other side of Fort Aubray.