"Certainly. Let him stuff himself. And let no man use him with contempt. He is faithful and brave. He is my friend. Do you mark me, Jimmy?"
"I do, sorr. And Nick Stoner—that long-legged limb of Satan!—av he plays anny thricks on Jimmy Burke may God help him—the poor little scut!—--"
I had some faint recollection of pranks played upon Burke by Nick in this same tavern; but what he had done to Jimmy I did not remember, save that it had set Sir William and the town all a-laughing.
"Nick is a good lad and my friend," said I. "Use him kindly. Your wit is a match for his, anyway, and so are your fists."
"Is it so!" muttered Burke, casting a smouldering side-look at me. "D'ye mind what he done three year come Shrove Tuesday? The day I gave out I was a better man than Sir William's new blacksmith? Well, then—av ye disremember—that scut of a Nick shtole me breeches, an' he put them on a billy-goat, an' tuk him to the tap-room where was company. An', 'Here,' says he, 'is a better Irishman than you, Jimmy Burke!—an' a better fighter, too.' An' wid that the damned goat rares up an' butts me over; an' up I gets an' he butts me over, an' up an' down I go, an' the five wits clean knocked out o' me, an' the company an' Sir William all yelling like loons an' laying odds on the goat——"
I lay there convulsed with laughter, remembering now this prank of the most mischievous boy I ever knew.
Burke licked his lips grimly at the memory of that ancient wrong.
"Sure, he's th' bould wan f'r to come into me house wid the score unreckoned an' all that balance agin' him."
"Touch pewter with him and forgive the lad," said I. "These are sterner days, Jimmy, and we should cherish no private malice here where we may be put to it to stand siege."
"Is it thrue, sor, that the destructives are on the Sacandaga?"