To this the dull, heavy fellow responded with a surly growl.
After this the Irishman banteringly asked me if I was comfortable.
My answer was an angry glare--at least, I meant it to be--but the only effect was to make him laugh.
"Ye've got a bad seat in the saddle, and it will be a good lesson to ye in riding, bhoy.

Make ye sit up.

I hate to see a military man with his showlders up and his nose down close to his charrger's mane.

Faith, I'm half-disposed to make ye throw the stirrups over the nag's neck, and I would if we'd toime.

But we've none to spare for picking ye up when ye came off .-- Here," he cried to the two men next behind, for we now rode two and two; "why are your carbines not full-cocked--rifles, I mane?
That's right.