But events close at hand were to disprove this assumption.
Neither were well pleased at having been left behind by Frank Reade, Jr.
“Begorra, I can’t see the sinse av Misther Frank’s taking that omadhoun with him instid av wan av us,” declared Barney, petulantly.
“Dat am a fac’, I’ish,” agreed Pomp, “fo’ instance a cullud gen’man like myself.”
“Bedad, av yez had gone wid him ye’d hav’ been wuss than the thrapper,” blustered Barney, offended at what he considered Pomp’s egotism.
“Golly! if Marse Frank had done tuk yo’ he neber wud hab got back fo’ suah. You’re no good nohow.”
Left alone, the two faithful servitors were as certain to get to wrangling and skylarking as could be.
It was natural for them to badger each other.
“Whurro! Don’t yez give me any av yer slang, naygur!” blustered Barney. “I’ll sphile the face av yez!”
“Huh! Yo’ bettah jes’ spell able fust, Mister Mick.”