promise not to read any prayers this night, then bring him in. Tell him that if he don’t promise, by the piper that played before Moses, he may stay reading his prayers in the bog till morning, for he can’t get out unless some of my people go in and help him!” says the King.
Darby’s heart began hammerin’ agin his ribs as though it were making heavy horseshoes.
“If that’s so, I’m a ruined man!” he says. “I’d give tunty pounds rather than face him now!” says he.
The disthracted lad put his hat on to go out, an’ thin he took it off to stay in. He let a groan out of him that shook all his bones.
“You may save him or lave him,” says the King, turning to the window. “I’m going to lave the priest see in a minute what’s bothering him. If he’s not out of the bog be that time, I’d adwise you to lave the counthry. Maybe you’ll only have a pair of cow’s horns put on ye, but I think ye’ll be kilt,” he says. “My own mind’s aisy. I wash my hands of him!
“That’s the great comfort and adwantage of having your sowl’s salwation fixed and sartin one way or the other,” says the King, peering out. “Whin
