“It's no matther what I mane; find it out.”
“How do I know but he has heard us?”
We must now observe that Fergus's style of sleeping was admirably adapted for his purpose. It was not accompanied by a loud and unbroken snore; on the contrary, after it had risen to the highest and most disagreeable intonations, it stopped short, with a loud and indescribable backsnort in his nose, and then, after a lull of some length, during which he groaned and muttered to himself, he again resumed his sternutations in a manner so natural as would have imposed upon Satan himself, if he had been present, as there is little doubt he was, though not exactly visible to the eyes of his two precious agents.
“Listen to that,” replied the woman; “do you think, now, he's not asleep? and even if he was sitting at the fire beside us, devil a syllable we said he could understand. I spoke to him in English when he came in, but he didn't know a word I said.”
“Well, then, let the ould fellow sleep away; I won't touch him.”
“Why, now, that's a good boy; go home to your barracks, and take a good sleep yourself.”
“Ay, yes, certainly; but have you Reilly's clothes safe—shoes, silver buckles, and all?”
“Ay, as safe as the head on your shoulders; and, upon my soul, a great dale safer, if you rob any more sheriffs.”
“Where are they, then?”
“Why, they're in my flat box, behind the bed, where nobody could see them.”