My reverie was interrupted. I heard voices and footsteps; they were approaching the spot where I lay. I could see that there were two men engaged in an earnest conversation. They did not notice me, as I was behind some fragments of the broken parapet, and in the shadow. As they drew nearer, I recognised the patois of my Canadian follower, and that of his companion was not to be mistaken. The brogue was Barney’s, beyond a doubt.
These worthies, I had lately noticed, had become “as thick as two thieves,” and were much in each other’s company. Some act of kindness had endeared the “infantry” to his more astute and experienced associate, who had taken him under his patronage and protection.
I was vexed at the intrusion; but prompted by some impulse of curiosity, I lay still and listened.
Barney was speaking as they approached.
“In trath, Misther Gowdey, an’ it’s meself ’ud go far this blissed night for a dhrap o’ the crayter. I noticed the little kig afore; but divil resave me av I thought it was anythin’ barrin’ cowld water. Vistment! only think o’ the owld Dutch sinner bringin’ a whole kig wid ’im, an’ keepin’ it all to himself. Yez are sure now it’s the stuff?”
“Oui! oui! C’est liqueur! aguardiente.”
“Agwardenty, ye say, div ye?”
“Oui! c’est vrai, Monsieur Barney. I have him smell, ver many time. It is of stink très fort: strong! good!”
“But why cudn’t ye stale it yerself? Yez know exactly where the doctor keeps it, an’ ye might get at it a hape handier than I can.”