“Sure and I wouldn’t trate it like that, sor,” cried Dinny, cheerfully. “We have eshcaped, sor, though we haven’t got away, and been obliged to come back again.”
“Don’t talk folly, man.”
“An’ is it folly ye call it! Sure an’ we have eshcaped, or else why are they all in purshuit of us? We’ve got away, and they fale it, and all that’s happened is that we did rache the boat, but had to come back here for a rest till we were riddy to go on. Sure, sor, ye’re hungry. Ate some of the tortillas and drink some of the wine, and thin, if ye won’t think it presumption, I’ll say—afther you.”
“Eat and drink, man. You must be faint. I have no appetite.”
“Ah!” ejaculated Dinny, after a pause of about a quarter of an hour, which he had bravely employed, “there’s nothing like food and dhrink, if it’s only potaties and butthermilk. Sure I’m ready for annything now, and so will ye be, sor, as soon as the wine begins to work.”
“Dinny, I’m ready for anything, now; but we cannot stay here.”
“Git up, sor, if ye wouldn’t moind,” said Dinny.
Humphrey obeyed dejectedly as the man advanced.
“Sure, sor, and it’s a wondherful owld place this, and there must have been some strange games carried on. Now, sor, in all the months ye’ve been here, did ye iver look under the bed?”
“Under the bed, man?” cried Humphrey. “Why, it is a huge block of stone.”