"Mair'd be a bother; an' I doot not ye'll mak' it all richt, lad." "And you'll make one of those two, Tommy," Corliss went on, inexorably.
"Na; there's ithers a plenty wi'oot coontin' me." "No, there's not.

Courbertin doesn't know the first thing.

St.
Vincent evidently cannot cross the slough.

Mr.Welse's arm puts him out of it.

So it's only you and I, Tommy." "I'll not be inqueesitive, but yon son of Anak's a likely mon.