They were deeply devoted to their handsome and accomplished young master, and clung to him closely.
They were delighted with the prospect of a deep-sea cruise.
“Begorra, I’ll make love to the bootiful mermaids an’ hobnob wid Neptune himself, bad cess to him!” cried Barney, gleefully. “Shure, it’ll be foine sport to go a-fishin’ for whales an’ porpuses down there, naygur.”
“Golly!” rejoined Pomp, as he threw a flip-flap, “I don’ fink yo’ want to fish much fo’ whales, sonny! Dey pull yo’ ober into de watah fo’ suah!”
“How the divil will they do that, yez black ape?” roared Barney. “Don’t yez see that we’re undher wather anyway?”
“Mebbe dat whale swallow yo’, den.”
“Bejabers, he cudn’t swally me an’ ther boat too, yez ignyramus!”
Pomp scratched his woolly head.
“Wha’ dat yo’ call me, chile?” he asked. “Am I a lily igglylamus? I done fink dat yo’ call me somefin’ else afo’ I get froo wif yo’. Ki dar!”
And Pomp made a rush for his colleague. They closed in a lively wrestle.