“Bedad! an’ if you’re the hen, I’ll be the chicken, an’ ate what you scratch up.”
“Will you?” asked Jiggins.
“I will thin.”
“Whatever I scratch up?”
“Yes—if they’re clams.”
“But you’ll have to eat them raw.”
“Well, sure it’s raw I mane.”
“Why, man alive, it’ll make you sick.”
“I’ll risk it. Sick is it? Not a bit of it.”
“Did you ever eat any raw clams, Pat?”