"It's the dead returned to loife!" gasped the dying man. "Oi saw him up there, me bhoy!"
"Who did you see?"
"Thot human divvil Porrfeeus dil Noort."
"Impossible! Del Norte is dead."
"Thin it wur his ghost, fer Oi saw him, with his—face pale—an' a whoite bandage about his head. This is me punishmint—fer havin'—fer havin' anything to do wid th' loikes av him!"
O'Toole labored through this speech with failing strength, and Frank saw he was sinking rapidly.
"Tell me quickly, man," urged Merry, "just where you saw him."
"Up yonder, me bhoy. Red Ben is there. Oi found him, an' Oi wur—talkin' wid him. Oi know Ben, an' Oi saved his loife wance by—by stroikin' up the hand av a mon who wur—goin' to shoot him."
It was with the greatest difficulty that O'Toole labored to draw his breath. Frank was deeply moved by the dying agonies of the unfortunate fellow, for Merry's experience convinced him that the Irishman was indeed dying.
However, Frank felt it his duty to learn everything possible while O'Toole could speak, and so he urged him to go on.