“Faith, thin we may as well have the young roaster as the old pork,” said Pat. “Ye’re well here. We’re in luck this day. See here.”
And he pulled out the duck and showed it to Sammy.
“How nicely you’ve picked it and fixed it!” said he. “I wish we could manage the pig. I don’t know what to do with it.”
“Many’s the pig I’ve kilt,” said Pat, loftily.
“Have you then? And will you do this one?”
“Will I do it? Faith, it’s me that will,” said Pat. “But won’t he squeal?”
“Squale is it? Not a squale you’ll hear.”
On this Sammy handed the pig to Pat, who disappeared with it among the bushes. No sound was heard; but after a short absence Pat returned in triumph, having accomplished his object.
“And now we’ll have two roasts, instead of one.” Driving two forked sticks into the ground, he made another with a sharp point, and ran it through the duck and the pig; then he laid the stick with its burden upon the two forked sticks, and knelt down by the fire.
“The coals are just right,” said Pat. “I’ll sit here an’ give it a turrun till I’m tired, an’ thin ye’ll relave me.” So he kept on turning the spit, and soon a rich aromatic fragrance filled the air.