“Do you know where ye are, avick?” says Mullins.
“Sorra a know I know,” says Jack; “may be it’s in Purgathory I am, for my head is shplittin’ in two halves, an’ I’m a’most desthroyed wid a pain in the small o’ my back. Moreover, my tongue’s as dhry as the flure of a lime-kiln. Av it’s in Abraham’s bosom ye are there, give us a dhrink o’ wather an’ I’ll be obleeged to ye.”
“Sure, it’s a mighty big mishtake you’re a making,” says Mullins. “You’re not in glory. Aren’t ye in O’Shannasey’s Pavilion, and aint the people a-lookin’ at ye for tuppence a head?”
Well, my frinds, when the mention of that an’ the tuppence sthruck Jack’s ear, he remimbered all of a suddint all about it, an’ how little Farrell was gibin’ him wid bein’ only fit for a peep-show.
An’ wid that he lets wan roar out of him ye’d have hard at the other ind o’ the barony, an’ sthraitened himself powerful.
The timbers of the carrywan wasn’t over sthrong, an’ they shplit an’ cracked wid a noise like tundher, an’ the dacent people begins screechin’ “The tigyer—the tigyer!” an’ goes rowlin’ and tumblin’ down the stips for all the world like pitatees spilt out of a creel. Sich murdher never was seen since Castlebar was a town, wid the hurry they were in.
An’ maybe the showman wasn’t in as big a fright as any of them, for all he knew it was a Christin an’ no tigyer; an’ faix he tuk to runnin’ as well as the rest of them.
And so did Wan-leg, but in his hurry he druv his wooden leg into the dhrum, which delayed him.
Whin Jack got himself loose, the first thing he done was to go and bate the jiant, for, as he said aftherwards, it was all along of him that he got into the shcrape at all. An’ he bate him that wicked that it’s my belief he’d be batin’ him this minnit av it wasn’t for the young woman that wint down on her two binded knees to him not to kill him all out.
So he wint at the wan-legged man, but he being a cripple, an’ more betoken entangled wid the dhrum, there was no glory in batin’ him; so Jack threw him an’ dhrum body an’ bones into the sthreet, and wint ragin’ afther the propriethur to bate him.