“I meant, sir,” replied the lad with a face that spoke of pure idiocy, “that it was the gauger I was watchin’, an’ I was to whistle upon my fingers to let the boy at that fire on the hill there above know that he was comin’.”
“Who told you to do so?”
“Little George, sir, an’ Mickey M’Quade.”
“Ay, ay, right enough there, my lad—two of the most notorious schemers unhanged they are both. But now, like a good boy, tell me the truth, an’ I’ll give you the price of a pair of shoes. Do you know where the still or still-house is? Because if you do, an’ won’t tell me, here are the soldiers at hand to make a prisoner of you; an’ if they do, all the world can’t prevent you from being hanged, drawn, and quartered.”
“Oh, bad cess may seize the morsel o’ me knows that; but if you’ll give me the money, sir, I’ll tell you who can bring you to it, for he tould me yestherday mornin’ that he knew, an’ offered to bring me there last night, if I’d steal him a bottle that my mother keeps the holy water in at home, tal he’d put whisky in it.”
“Well, my lad, who is this boy?”
“Do you know Harry Neil, or Mankind, sir?”
“I do, my good boy.”
“Well, it’s a son of his, sir; an’ look, sir; do you see the smoke farthest up to the right, sir?”
“To the right? Yes.”