“Well, thin,” said Pat, “I’ll tell you what it is. Let’s be off, and thrust to luck. Let’s walk ahead anywheres, and we’ll come out somewheres.”
“Can’t we tell something by the clouds?” asked Bart, looking up at the rolling masses overhead.
“Deed an I’ve thought o’ that,” said Pat, “an I’ve been watchin thim; but sorra one o’ me can make out any thin about thim same at all, at all. They’re jist rowlin an tumblin every which way. An that same they were doin this mornin; for I watched thim, an cudn’t make any thin out o’ thim at all, at all, no more’n I can now at this blissed momint. An they won’t be afther tellin you any more’n they towld me, I’ll go bail.”
“It seems to me,” said Bart, “that they are moving in some direction. I remember noticing this morning that they moved, or seemed to move, across the river. Now, if the river ran north—”
“South,” interrupted Pat.
“North,” persisted Bart. “If it ran north, why, these clouds must be moving east.”
“West,” cried Pat.
“East,” persisted Bart. “If I’m certain of anything, I’m certain that they must be going east.”
“Deed an I’m dead sure that they’re a goin west.
“An I’m as likely to be right as you are.”