“Course I didn’. I was goin’ to frow it into de sea when yo’ head cum along an’ jes’ got in de way.”
“Arrah, an’ that’ll do very well fer yez to say,” cried the Celt, “but if yez think I belave it——”
“Shuah, it’s de troof,” protested Pomp.
“I’ll tache yez to hit me wid a doughball an’ thin lie about it aftherwards,” roared the Celt. And then he made a dive for the window.
But Pomp clashed it shut in his face. The Celt rushed around to the galley door.
But the darky shut the bolt in this, and for the time was master of the situation. But, though baffled, Barney was not defeated.
He retired, vowing the direst of vengeance. It took an hour’s hard work to get the clinging dough out of his hair.
Nor did he get any sympathy from any one. When Frank and Wade heard the story they laughed heartily. This made Barney only the madder.
“Be me sowl!” he muttered, “I’ll more than aven it up wid that black rascal. Shure, I’ll tache him manners!”
How Barney accomplished his purpose we shall see at a later day.