“Gibberish! it was the purest Gaelic,” said Blake laughing.
“I heard a lot of Greek words myself,” said Drysdale; “but old Murdock was too pleased at hearing his own clapper going, and too full of whisky, to find him out.”
“Let alone that I doubt whether he remembers more than about five words of his native tongue himself,” said Blake.
“The old boy got so excited that he went up stairs for his plaid and dirk, and dressed himself up in them, apologising that he could not appear in the full grab of old Gaul, in honor of his new-found relative, as his daughter had cut up his old kilt for 'trews for the barnies' during his absence from home. Then they took to more toddy and singing Scotch songs, till at eleven o'clock they were standing on their chairs, right hands clasped, each with one foot on the table, glasses in the other hands, the toddy flying over the room as they swayed about roaring like maniacs, what was it?—oh, I have it:
'Wug-an-toorey all agree,
Wug-an-toorey, wug-an-toorey.'”
“He hasn't told you that he tried to join us, and tumbled over the back of his chair into the dirty-plate basket.”
“A libel! a libel!” shouted Drysdale; “the leg of my chair broke, and I stepped down gracefully and safely, and when I looked up and saw what a tottery performance it was, I concluded to give them a wide berth. It would be no joke to have old Murdock topple over on to you. I left them 'wug-an-tooreying,' and went out to look after the trap, which was ordered to be at the door at half-past ten. I found Murdock's ostler very drunk, but sober compared with that rascally help whom we had been fools enough to take with us. They had got the trap out and the horses in, but that old rascal Satan was standing so quiet that I suspected something wrong. Sure enough, when I came to look, they had him up to the cheek on one side of his mouth, and third bar on the other, his belly-band buckled across his back, and no kicking strap. The old brute was chuckling to himself what he would do with us as soon as we had started in that trim. It took half an hour getting all right, as I was the only one able to do anything.”
“Yes, you would have said so,” said Blake, “if you had seen him trying to put Jack up behind. He made six shots with the old dog, and dropped him about on his head and the broad of his back as if he had been a bundle of ells.”
“The fact is, that that rascally ostler had made poor old Jack drunk too,” explained Drysdale, “and he wouldn't be lifted straight. However we got off at last, and hadn't gone a mile before the help (who was maundering away some cursed sentimental ditty or other behind), lurched more heavily than usual, and pitched off into the night somewhere. Blake looked for him for half-an-hour, and couldn't find a hair.”
“You don't mean to say the man tumbled off and you never found him?” said Tom in horror.