“‘Look here,’ says he, maybe feelin’ sort of hurt himsilf, ‘ye said five thousand. Why not make it ten?’
“‘What?’ says I, gaspin’.
“‘Why not make it ten?’ says he.
“‘Arrah,’ says I, ‘are ye wantin’ me to feed ye till me grandchilder can be collectin’ of it? Ten thousand, indeed! Ye ought to be thankful ye ain’t marked down to forty-nine-fifty.’
“‘Oh, well,’ he says, careless, ‘it’s none of my business. But where do ye take me?’
“Now I’d been thinkin’ of a old warehouse near Mike O’Hara’s dock with a fine cellar in it and no wan nosin’ round, but it’s mesilf is too knowledgeable to be tellin’ ivrything that’s in me head, even if they was time for it. ‘We’ll be gittin’ me shoes first,’ I says, ‘and thin we’ll be climbin’ down to me boat and cross the river,’ I says, ‘where they ain’t room for so manny mosquities.’
“All right,’ says he, cheerful, ‘though I don’t mind thim anny, as I told ye a bit gone. Come along afore it gits too dark.’
“Was they iver the like of that, and him bein’ kidnapped! ‘Faith, maybe it’s a bluff he’s workin’,’ thinks I, ‘though divil the wan of me knows why he’d be workin’ it.’ And whin I’d took him to where I’d dropped me shoes—oh, wirra, how bad the walkin’ was!—I let go of him entirely whilst I was crammin’ thim two feet of mine into thim, to see would he run ag’in, but keepin’ me arm handy to a brick to throw through him whin he tried it. Och, he niver made a move, and the more chanct I give him, the peaceabler he stood there waitin’ for me. It was most unsettlin’.
‘We’ll be goin’ down the cliff now,’ says I, takin’ off me suspinders and tyin’ wan ind of thim in a hard knot around the scrawny little neck of him to hold him by.
“‘Do ye always tie thim up that way?’ says he.