Well, the transition was brief. A madder Irishman old Neptune never bore upon his heaving bosom.
With angry hands Barney tried to claw the dough from his mop of red hair. Of course, it only clung the worse.
He managed to get his eyes clear and his ear, then he made the air blue about him.
“Howly shmoke, but I’ll have the heart av yez fer that!” he roared, “yez black-skinned ape, yez! Have at yez! I’ll tache ye to insult a gintlemin!”
“Hi—hi—hi! Massy Lordy!” howled Pomp, “dat am de berry funniest fing!”
“Yez think it funny eh?” roared Barney. “Well, yez won’t think that way whin I git done wid yez!”
“Ho—ho—ho! hi—hi—hi!”
“Phwat do yez mane by threating me thot way?” roared Barney, trying to claw the dough out of his hair.
“How yo’ fink I know yo’ was gwine to get hit?” cried Pomp. “Wha’ yo’ git in de way, fo’?”
“Do yez mane to say yez didn’t throw that on purpose?”