Along the road ran a hedge of thick bushes, and, keeping well within the dark fringe of these, Douglas slowly advanced. He could hear the talking more plainly now, and ere long he was able to tell that the men were under the influence of liquor. Their voices were maudlin, and they were wrangling with one another in a somewhat petulant and childish manner.
"I tell ye he is," he heard one say.
"He ain't," another retorted.
"Yes, he is, ye blame fool."
"He ain't."
"Shet up ye'r jawin'," a third ordered. "Ye'r both drunk. Sure he's there. Wasn't he seen goin' into the house?"
"Well, I'll be darned if I'm goin' to wait any longer," the first speaker whined. "I'm tired an' sleepy, an' want to go home. I wish to G— that Ben would do his own dirty work."
"Ye liked his whiskey well enough, didn't ye?" his companion asked.
"Oh, yes, that's all right, but there wasn't enough of it."
"Too much fer you, though. Why, it's gone to ye'r head, an' has made yer tongue like a mill-clapper. Ye'd better shet ye'r mouth or the guy'll hear ye an' take to his heels before we kin lay hands on him."