“Begorra, they wudn’t have ye even there,” cried Barney. “Yez are too wicked for avin that place.”
“Oh, ho, Irish, you’ve got your tongue, eh?” cried Cliff, with a vicious laugh. “So ye think I’m too bad, eh?”
“Be me sowl, thar cudn’t be a place too bad for yez!”
“I’ll have a nice little hades fixed fer yer right on this earth an’ I’ll give ye a fair taste of it in advance, too,” said the villain, vengefully.
“Arrah, yez can’t scare me at all, at all,” he retorted. “Yer threats are jist the same as a puppy dog’s bark.”
“You’ll find that I’m the kind of a dog that bites,” averred the villain.
“It’s not me that cares fer yer bites.”
“We’ll see about that. Don’t blow your horn too soon.”
“Begorra, that’s good advice fer yersilf, ye blatherskite! Av I on’y had me two hands to use now I’d baste the rascality out av yez or I’d make a good job fer ther undhertaker.”
“Talk is cheap,” sneered the villain. “Ye’d better save yer wind.”