'Tis a good roof above! Heth, thin, had I a whisp o' straw and a bite,
wid this moonlight fer company, I'd not shog from out this the night to
be King!
"Saints! but there's a dog beyant the bark!" he cried a minute after, as
the pup crept over to him and began to be friendly,--"I wonder is a mon
sinsible to go to trustin' the loight o' any moon that shines full on a
pitch-black noight whin 'tis rainin'? Och hone! but me stomach's that
empty, gin I don't put on me shoes me lungs'll lake trou the soles o' me
fate, and gin I do, me shoes they're that sopped, I'll cough them
up--o-whurra-r-a! whurra-a! but will I iver see Old Oireland agin,--I
don't know!"
Bart shut off the light, slipped on his shoes, and drawing a coat over
his pajamas lighted the oil stable lantern, hung it with its back toward
me, on a long hook that reached down from one of the rafters, and bore
down upon Larry, whose face was instantly wreathed in puckered smiles
at the sight of a fellow-human who, though big, evidently had no
intention of being aggressive.
"Well, Larry McManus," said Bart, cheerfully, "how came you in this barn
so far away from Oireland a night like this?"
"Seein' as yer another gintleman o' the road in the same ploice, what
more loike than the misfortune's the same?" replied he, lengthening his
lower lip and stretching his stubby chin, which he scratched cautiously.
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