“That’s what the priest said to Randy Maloney’s third wife when she complained that he bate her.”

“Barney, I’ll throttle you if you don’t keep that mill you call your tongue still.”

“Ah, I’ll hold it in me fist, as Mag Gleason held her jaw, for fear her tooth would lep out to get more room to ache.”

Jack laughed.  “If we’re caught it will be through your jokes, for bad as they are I must laugh at some of them.”

“Dear, oh dear no; you may save the laugh till a convenient time, as Hugh McGowen kept his penances, until his head was clear, and there was no whisky in the jar.”

They had been pushing on rapidly—­noiselessly, during this whispered dispute, and now found themselves at the reedy margin of a wide inlet, where, from the swift motion of the water and the musical gurgling, they could tell they were by the side of a main channel.

“We must push on southward, and see if there is a crossing.  If we come to one, that will tell us where we are, for it will be guarded, you may be sure,” said Jack, buoyantly.

“Yes, but I’d rather find a hill of potatoes and a drop than all the soldiers in the two armies.”

“You are not logical, Barney.  If we find soldiers, we’ll find rations; though I have my doubts about the sort of ‘drop’ you’ll be apt to find down here.”

“There was enough corn in the field beyant to keep a still at work for a winter,” Barney lamented with a sigh, recalling fields of grain they had passed near Williamsburg, which he vaguely alluded to as “beyant.”

“I wish some of the ‘still’ were on the end of your tongue at this moment.”

“With all me heart—­’twould do yer sowl good to see the work it’d give me tongue to do to hould itself,” Barney gasped, trying to keep abreast of his reviler.  “Be the dark eyes of Pharaoh’s daughter there’s a field beyant—­yes, and a shebeen; d’ye see that?”

They had suddenly emerged in a cleared place.  Against the horizon they could distinctly distinguish the outlines of a cabin, the “shebeen” Barney alluded to.

“Yes, we’re in luck.  It’s a negro shanty.  We shall find friends there, if we find anybody.  Now, do be silent.”

“If the field was full of girruls, with ears as big as sunflowers, they wouldn’t hear me breathe, so have no fear.  A hill of potatoes all eyes couldn’t see us in such darkness as this.”

For dense clouds had swiftly come up from the west, covering the horizon.  After careful reconnoitring, requiring a circuit of the clearing, Jack ventured to make directly for the dark outlines of the cabin.  War had obviously not visited the place, for as they passed a low outhouse the startled cackle of chickens sounded toothsomely, and Barney came to a delighted halt.

“Sure we’d better get a bite to ate while we may, as th’ ass said when he passed th’ market car, for who knows what’ll happen if we stop to ask by your lave?”