"Dry up!" broke in the impatient Hibernian.
"Talk of being obleeged to me, 'cause I interfared. What did ye let them git ye down fur? That's what I want to know. Git out wid yees!"
And the disgusted champion turned the other fellow about and expressed his opinion of him by delivering a kick, which landed him several feet away.
"That was kind in yees," said the recipient, looking back with the droll humor of the Irish people. "They did their hammering in front, while I resave yees in the rear, and I fale as though they was about equal."
"What's this? what's this?" demanded one of the policemen in a brisk, business-like tone, swinging his locust, and looking sharply about him, as if in quest of some desperado upon whom to vent his wrath.
"It looks as if there was some trouble here."
"It's all done with now," replied the man that had finished it, and then, recognizing the officer, he extended his hand.
"How are ye, Billy?"
"Hello, Pat, is that you?"
"So it is, me, Patsey McConough, that happened down this way on the lookout for a wee boy, when I saw two men beating one, and I jist restored the aquilibrium, as ye may say. But what have ye there?" asked Patsey, peering through the gloom at the figure of a boy in the grip of the other policeman.