“And what did you go through it all for?” asked the principal of them, with something of distrust in his manner.
“What did I go through it fwhor? fwhy, thin, fwhor the sake o' the trewth—I'm a Gaaulway man, boys, and it isn't in Can-naught you'll fwhind the man that's afeard to do fwhat's right: here's aaul your healths, and that everything may soon be as it ought to be.”
“Well,” said the other, “you are a Can-naught man sartainly, that's clear from your tongue; but I want to axe you a question.'
“Fwhy nat? it's but fair,—it's but fair, I say,—take that wit j'ou, an' I'm the boy that will answer it, if I can, bekaise you know, or maybe you don't—but it's a proverb we have in Cannaught wit us—that a fool may ax a question that a wise man couldn't answer: well, what is it?”
“Who brought you here to-night?”
“Who brought me here to-night? fwhy, thin, I'll tell you as much of it as I like—He did.”
“Be japers it's a lie, beggin' your pardon, my worthy Cannaught man. He couldn't be here to-night. I know where he was the greater part of the night, and the thing's impossible. I don't know you, but we must know you—ay, and we will know you.”
“Trath an' I must know you, thin, and that very soon,” replied M'Carthy.
“Come into the next room, then,” said the other.
“Anywhere you like,” he replied, “I'm wit you; but I'm not the boy to be humbugged, or to bear your thricks upon thravellers.”