The old man started. "That's me own business," he answered shortly.
"Oh." Billy took hold of his arm, "Then them snakes an' man-eatin' birds you've been seein' are your own business, too; an' since you've been ninny enough to stray into this shanty, I'm goin' to put you back in it an' see that you stay in it."
"And fer God's sake, why?" gasped the frightened O'Dule.
"That's my business," said Billy.
Harry glanced behind him with a shudder. "God love you fer a good lad, Billy," he cried; "but this is no way to trate an ould frind, is ut now?"
"Then you best tell me where you're gettin' the whisky," said Billy.
"But that's shure the ould man's secret, Billy," pleaded Harry. "It's not a foine chap as ye are would be wheedlin' it out av me, now?"
Billy frowned. "I know that Spencer won't give you any more whisky," he said, "an' I know the deacon won't give you any more cider. I know that you've gettin' liquor some place—an' without payin' fer it. Now you kin tell me where, er you kin stay in that shanty an' see snakes an' things all night."
Harry wavered. "And if I be tellin' ye," he compromised, "ye'll be givin' a promise not to pass it along, thin? Wull ye now?"
"Yes I promise not to tell anybody but Maurice?"