“Is it enough?” said a lad, who, if his father was less wealthy than Thady's, was resolved to put strength of arm against strength of purse. “Maybe it isn't enough! I say I bar it, if your fadher was fifty times as rich!—Rich! Arrah, don't be comin' over us in regard of your riches, man alive! I'll bring the sthrange boy home this very night, an' it isn't your father's dirty money that'll prevint me.”
“I'd advise you to get a double ditch about your nose,” replied Thady, “before you begin to say anything disrespectful aginst my father.—Don't think to ballyrag over me. I'll bring the boy, for I have the best right to him. Didn't I do (* outwit) the masther on his account?”
“A double ditch about my nose?”
“Aye!”
“Are you able to fight me?”
“I'm able to thry it, anyhow, an' willin too.”
“Do you say you're able to fight me?”
“I'll bring the boy home whether or not.”
“Thady's not your match, Jack Ratigan,” said another boy. “Why don't you challenge your match?”
“If you say a word, I'll half-sole your eye. Let him say whether he's able to fight me like a man or not. That's the chat.”