“Well, boys, are we all safe?” asked Traynor.
“Safe?” said old Dolan. “Arrah, what are you talkin' about? Sure 'tisn't of that same spalpeen of a gauger that we'd be afraid!”
During this observation, young Dolan pressed Traynor's foot under the table, and they both went out for about five minutes.
“Father,” said the son, when he and Traynor re-entered the room, “you're a wanting home.”
“Who wants me, Larry, avick?” says the father.
The son immediately whispered to him for a moment, when the old man instantly rose, got his hat, and after drinking another bumper of the poteen, departed.
“Twas hardly worth while,” said Delany; “the ould fellow is mettle to the back-bone, an' would never show the garran-bane at any rate, even if he knew all about it.”
“Bad end to the syllable I'd let the same ould cock hear,” said the son; “the divil thrust any man that didn't switch the primer (* take and oath) for it, though he is my father; but now, boys, that the coast's clear, and all safe—where will we get a schoolmaster? Mat Kavanagh won't budge from the Scanlon boys, even if we war to put our hands undher his feet; and small blame to him—sure, you would not expect him to go against his own friends?”
“Faith, the gorsoons is in a bad state,” said Murphy; “but, boys where will we get a man that's up? Why I know 'tis betther to have anybody nor be without one; but we might kill two birds wid one stone—if we could get a masther that would carry 'Articles,' * an' swear in the boys, from time to time—an' between ourselves, if there's any danger of the hemp, we may as well lay it upon strange shoulders.”
* A copy of the Whiteboy oath and regulations.