‘Let him go!’ Keefe was shouting.
‘Hands off!’ Blaney was echoing.
I pushed my way in. ‘What’s up?’ I cried.
‘Mr. Connor,’ said Sandy solemnly, ‘it is a gentleman you are, though your name is against you, and I am a good Presbyterian, and I can give you the Commandments and Reasons annexed to them; but yon’s a thief, a Papist thief, and I am justified in getting my money out of his soul.’
‘But,’ I remonstrated, ‘you won’t get it in this way.’
‘He has my money,’ reiterated Sandy.
‘He is a blank liar, and he’s afraid to take it up,’ said Slavin, in a low, cool tone.
With a roar Sandy broke away and rushed at him; but, without moving from his tracks, Slavin met him with a straight left-hander and laid him flat.
‘Hooray,’ yelled Blaney, ‘Ireland for ever!’ and, seizing the iron poker, swung it around his head, crying, ‘Back, or, by the holy Moses, I’ll kill the first man that interferes wid the game.’
‘Give it to him!’ Keefe said savagely.