“Holy Moses!” ejaculated Dinny. “For just handling a shtick like that. Think o’ that, now! Why, I sent Larry Higgins to the hospital for sivin weeks wance for just such a thing. An’ it was a contimptibly thin shkull he’d got, just like a bad egg, and it cracked directly I felt it wid the shtick. And what did you do?” he added sharply, as he turned to Mary. “Where was your shtick?”
“I struck him with my hand,” said Mary, proudly.
“More sorrow to it that it hadn’t a shtick in it at the time. Sint ye both out here for a thing like that! Gintlemen, I’m proud of ye. Why didn’t ye tell me before?”
He held out his hands to both, and, intruder as he was, it seemed impossible to resist his frank, friendly way, and the escaped prisoners shook hands with him again.
“And now what are ye going to do?” said Dinny, eagerly.
“We don’t know yet,” said Abel, rather distantly.
“That’s jist me case,” said Dinny. “I’m tired of sogering and walking up and down wid a mushket kaping guard over a lot of poor divils chained like wild bastes. I tuk the shilling bekase I’d been in a skrimmage, and the bowld sergeant said there’d be plinty of foighting; and the divil a bit there’s been but setting us to shoot prishners, and I didn’t want that. Now, ye’ll tak me wid ye, only I must get rid o’ these soger clothes, and—look here, what are ye going to do wid thim chains?”
“Get rid of them,” said Abel, “when we can find a file.”
“I did not think of a file,” said Mary, with a disappointed look.
“There’s plinty of strange plants out in these parts,” said Dinny, laughing, “but I never see one that grew files. Only there’s more ways of killing a cat than hanging him, as the praste said when he minded his owld brogues wid a glue-pot. Come here.”