"We have been without food all day," I continued, "and, after escaping the dangers of the burning plains, it seems hard to be driven away from a Christian's door like dogs."
"It's a pity, so it is, that ye wasn't consumed in that same fire. Away wid ye, and don't bother honest people like us. Ye can't come in here, and that's flat."
"I suppose that you imagine we are bushrangers," I said; "in that you are mistaken. We have just escaped from a gang."
"Thin ye had better 'scape back agin, as fast as yer two legs will carry ye," cried the Irishman.
"It's the first time that I ever knew a native of the Emerald Isle to refuse a stranger a crust of bread or a drop of water," I continued, resolved to try what virtue there was in flattery.
"Will yer save yer blarney?" demanded the fellow, again levelling his gun in my direction, a proceeding that I did not thank him for, although I did not manifest alarm.
"Go to the devil!" I cried, thoroughly out of patience, "and send your master to me."
"O, holy St. Patrick! only hear him! He calls me master the devil, and thinks I won't resent the insult. Look out for yer eye, for by the piper that played before Moses, I'll bore yer through and through!"
I believe the fellow would have kept his word, and I was just about to show them my horse's heels, when I heard a man speak in a tone of authority,—
"Up with your guns, and don't make fools of yourselves by shooting an unarmed man."