“Not myself sure; but I heard it on good authority; but I think we had better make sure, by paying them a visit some night soon.”
“We will talk about that,” said Val; “but I am told that you treated priest Roche badly the other night. Is that true?”
“Why, what did you hear?” asked M'Clean.
“I heard you fired into his house; that you know was dangerous.”
“All right,” said Phil; “what right have. Popish priests to live under a Protestant government? By my sacred honor, I'd banish them like wild cats.”
“No,” said M'Clean, in reply to Val, “we did not; all we did was to play 'Croppies lie Down,' as we passed the house, and fire three volleys over it—not into it; but if there was e'er a one among us with a bad aim you know, that wasn't his fault or ours; ha—ha—by Japers,” said he in a low, confidential whisper, “we frightened the seven senses out of him, at any rate—the bloody Papist rascal—for sure they are all that, and be d——d to them.”
“Capital doctrine—and so they are, Tom; light, Tom; so you frightened the bog Latin out of him! ha! ha! ha!”
“Ha—ha—ha—by my sowl we did, and more maybe, if it was known; I must be off now.”
“Go and help yourself to a bumper of spirits before you go,” said Val; “and, Tom, keep a sharp lookout, and whenever you find, or hear of arms, let me know immediately.”
Tom only nodded to that, as he put the glass to his lips; “gentlemen,” said he, “your healths; here's no Popery! no surrender!” saying which, he deposited the empty glass on the table, giving the same time two or three short coughs occasioned by the strength of the liquor. “Good morning, gentlemen—brother, M'Slime”—he voiced and nodded significantly at Solomon, then added—“good people are scarce; so be a good boy and take care of yourself.”