"Drunk as a fiddler, you mean," said David.
"Ya! dronk as two fiddlers!"
"Ma sang! I hae a verra sma' opeenion o' the University o' Got-again, if that's a' ye ken aboot snake-bite!" said McKeel.
"Mine friend, he is what you call sham."
"Do you think a man would sham," said Mrs. Coonie indignantly, "when he is dying?"
"Mine goot friend, Mrs. Coonie, he has not grappled mit de King of Terrors yet. It's King Alcohol dat's got hold of him."
"Don't you tell me! I've lived in the bush, maid and wife, twenty years, and know snakebite. Besides, hasn't he settled his affairs—made his will, in fact, most sensibly, and left all he has to my Annie."
"She vill not haf a heavy boondle to carry; dat is what I say."
"Indeed! You know nothing about it. It turns out, as I always said, that he is a rich man in disguise, and fell in love with my daughter and wanted to marry her. Now he has left her all he has."
"How much?" said Max.