By this time Barney got over his confusion and saw the coon.
He also observed the cause of his misery.
“Faith, it’s ther naygur!” he groaned, as he tried to dodge the stream.
“Whoop her up! Dat’s de step, honey! Oh, Lawd—looker dem legs fly!”
“Shtop it!” shouted the Celt, as he raced around to avoid the freezing water. “Bedad, I’m frozen! Pomp, ye spalpeen, wanst I get ther grip av me fingers in ther wool av yer head, I’ll scalp yez wid wan pull.”
“Hop, dar, yo’ chimpanzee; hop, I say! I’se gwine to gib yo’ a wash if yo’ neber hab one befo’, chile.”
Barney flew into a closet.
Here the door protected him.
There were several pairs of shoes, a boot jack, and sundry other objects lying upon the floor, which he eagerly grasped.
The next moment he bombarded the coon with them from behind the door, and as the fusillade whizzed through the air, Pomp made an effort to dodge them.