between
these two worthies:--

"Hourigan, blazes to me but I'm shot."

"Hell's perdition to the unlucky villain--so am I--where are you shot,
Mark?"

"By japers, the blood's pourin' out from me in the thigh, an' I'm afeard
I'm done for--blast his unlucky hand, the villain; I wisht I had my
dagger in him. Where are you shot, Darby?"

"Oh, vo--vo--on the right hip--but--oh, sweet Jasus, what will become
of us if we're to die here--may the devil clap his cruibs (* Talons;
claws) in the sowl of him that done it!"

"Amin, I pray the blessed Saviour this night! Do you think, Darby, he
was a traitor, and done it a purpose?"

"Oh, mavrone, oh!--if I die widout the priest, what 'ud become o' me,
an' all the sins I have to answer?"

"I say, was the villain a traitor, do you think?"

"Mavrone, oh!--blessed Lord forgive me--well--I can hardly think
so--didn't he volunteer along wid yourself an' myself--oh, sweet Jasus!
what a life I lead--oh, Mark Ratigan, Mark Ratigan, what will become o'
me!---I swore away the lives of two innocent men--I proved three alibis
for three of as black villains as ever stretched a rope or charged a
blunderbush! 'Our Father who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name, thy
kingdom come'--oh, Lord! forbid that yet a while! could you join in a
_Leadhan wurrah?_"

"Blast you, you thick-headed vagabone! don't you know it's wrong to call
me Mark Ratigan--isn't Phil Hart my name now?--no, I tell you, that I
can't join you in a _Leadhan wurrah_--nor I didn't think you wor such
a d--d cowardly hound as you are--can't you die--if you're goin' to
die--like a man, an' not like an ould woman? Be my sowl, Darby, my boy,
afther this night I'll never trust you again. It's yourself that 'ud
turn traitor on your country and her cause, if you got the rope and
hangman at your nose."

"Holy Mary, mother of God! pray for us sinners, now and at the hour of
our death, amin! Oh, sweet Jasus! have parsecution on me this night, an'
spare me if it's your blessed will, till I get time to repint properly
anyhow. Mark, darlin', are you gettin' waker, for I am?"

"To blazes wid you, and don't bother me--no, I'm not--I've tied
my handkerchy about the place I was shot in, an' stopped
the blood--eh--here--well done, Mark--hem--Phil Hart, I
mane--bravo--see--that now--instead of bleatin' like a dyin' sheep, I've
stopped the blood, an' here I am able to stand and walk. Come," said he,
approaching his companion, "where are you s