But at this moment the boys were rudely interrupted.
“Aha! ye thafes of the wurruld, ye!” cried a loud voice close beside them. “Ye villains, ye. What are ye doin’,—a murdherin’ and slaughterin’ a poor man’s property. Ye blackgyards, ye! What d’ye mane by comin’ here and shootin’ my geese?”
Thunderstruck at this unexpected interruption, the boys turned, and found themselves face to face with an old, grizzled, red-faced little Irishman, whose furious gestures and angry eyes were directed menacingly toward them.
“Which af ye’s shot my goose?” he roared.
“1 did,” said Bart, quietly.
“Ye young villain! I’ll make ye pay for it,—and dear, too,—as sure as me name’s Denny O’Rafferty. What’r ye’s doin’ here, any how? What d’ye mane by shootin’ my goose? D’ye think I’m goin’ to be robbed be a gang of black-gyards? Be the powers! if ye think that same, ye’ll find ye’re mistaken, bad scran till ye!”
“Mr. O’Rafferty,” said Bart, “you’re quite mistaken. We’re honest boys, and came here by accident.”
“What did ye shoot the goose for, then, ye imp of mischief?”
“It was a mistake,” said Bart, coolly. “Of course I didn’t know it was yours,—in fact, I wasn’t aware that anybody was living here. I will be happy to pay you whatever you think it’s worth,-and am sorry for the mistake.”
At this speech O’Rafferty’s face and manner underwent a complete change.