“Th’ Three-ply Moine. Oi do be worrukin’ f’r McGowan.”
“I don’t riccolect seein’ ye at ther Three-ply, Golightly, an’ I’ve been thar fer two er three days.”
“Oi’ve seen yersilf there, wid Buffalo Bill an’ th’ little redshkin yez call Cayuse. Are yez goin’ t’ let me out, or are yez goin’ t’ set there chinnin’ wid me on me hands an’ knees an’ me back half-broke?”
“I’m goin’ ter let ye out, pilgrim,” said Nomad, getting up and walking to the door of the trap.
Throwing off the stone, he lifted the door, and Golightly rolled out, with a shout of satisfaction at finding himself free.
Clenching his fists, he shook them in the air; then, jumping high and knocking his heels together, he stooped down and patted the earth with one hand.
“Yez hear me?” he roared. “Oi can lick th’ blackguards wid me wan hand tied behind me back!”
“Ef ye’re able ter do thet, Golightly,” grinned Nomad, “fer why did ye let ther blackguards put ye in ther b’ar-trap?”
“Oi was taken by surprise, that’s whoy!” glared Golightly.