“Ha! Raymond, my good boy,” said the priest, “how does it happen that you are so early up this stormy morning? would you not be more comfortable in your bed?”
“Airly up,” replied Raymond, “airly up! that's good—to be sure you're a priest, but you don't know everything.”
“Why, what am I ignorant of now, Raymond?”
“Why, that I didn't go to bed yet—so that it's up late, instead of early, I am—d'ye hear? ha, ha, now take that.”
“When, where, and how did you spend the night then, Raymond; but you seem in a hurry—surely if you trot on at this fate we cannot keep up with you.” The truth is, Raymond's general rate of travelling was very rapid. “Where did you spend the night, Raymond,” continued the priest.
“Wid a set o' jolly cocks—ha, ha,—now make money of that, d'ye hear.”
“You're a riddle, Raymond; you're a riddle; there's no understanding you—where did you get the cock?—but I needn't ask; of course you stole him.”
“Then why do you ax if you think so?”
“Because you're notorious for stealing cocks—every one knows as much.”
“No, never steal 'em,—fond o' me—come wid me themselves. Look.” The words were scarcely uttered when he tossed the bird up into the air, and certainly, after flying about for a few yards, he alit, and tottering against the wind towards Raymond, stretched out his neck, as if he wished to be again taken up by him.