“Don’t yez want a dhrink? Shure I think yez might be dhry.”
Pomp was very thirsty.
Therefore he replied eagerly:
“All right, I’ish, yo’ fetch me dat watah an’ I cook yo’ sumfin’ good fo’ yo’ supper. Dat am a fac’.”
“All roight, bejabers,” cried Barney. “I’ll take ye on that, naygur.”
So Barney went up to the wagon with the dipper filled with the saline fluid.
Pomp took the dipper and glanced at the water.
It looked to him as pure and delicious as nectar.
Tipping his head back, he proceeded to pour it down his throat in copious draughts. The effect was terrific.
For a moment he was doubled up like a jumping jack, with awful contortion of the features.