“Shut up, ye durned fool! What is’t to you what I’m speakin’ beout? You can’t unnerstan sech things. Kum along!” he continued, moving off, and motioning the Connemara man to follow him. “I want ye a leetle way wi’ me. I killed a rattle as I wur goin’ up the crik, an left it thur. Kum you, an toat it back to the shanty hyur, lest some varmint may make away wi’ it; an lest, arter all, I moutn’t strike turkey agin.”
“A rattle. Div yez mane a rattle-snake?”
“An’ what shed I mean?”
“Shure, Misther Stump, yez wudn’t ate a snake. Lard! wudn’t it poison yez?”
“Pisen be durned! Didn’t I cut the pisen out, soon ’s I killed the critter, by cuttin’ off o’ its head?”
“Trath! an for all that, I wudn’t ate a morsel av it, if I was starvin’.”
“Sturve, an be durned to ye! Who axes ye to eet it. I only want ye to toat it home. Kum then, an do as I tell ye; or dog-goned, ef I don’t make ye eet the head o’ the reptile,—pisen, fangs an all!”
“Be japers, Misther Stump, I didn’t mane to disobey you at all—at all. Shure it’s Phaylim O’Nale that’s reddy to do your biddin’ anyhow. I’m wid ye for fwhativer yez want; aven to swallowin the snake whole. Saint Pathrick forgive me!”
“Saint Patrick be durned! Kum along!”
Phelim made no farther remonstrance; but, striking into the tracks of the backwoodsman, followed him through the wood.