some yards of sausage. The dog outside carried the other end.
"An' 'e ishn't dead?" Dad said after hearing what had befallen Dave. "Don' b'leevsh id—wuzhn't bit. Die 'fore shun'own ifsh desh ad'er bish 'm."
"Bit!" Dave said bitterly, turning round to the surprise of everyone. "I never said I was bit. No one said I was—only those snivelling idiots and that pumpkin-headed Irish pig there."
Maloney lowered his jaw and opened his eyes.
"Zhackly. Did'n' I (hic) shayzo, 'Loney? Did'n' I, eh, ol' wom'n!" Dad mumbled, and dropped his chin on his chest. Maloney began to take another view of the matter. He put a leading question to Joe.
"He muster been bit," Joe answered, "'cuz he had the d-death-adder in his hand."
More silence.
"Mush die 'fore shun'own," Dad murmured.
Maloney was thinking hard. At last he spoke. "Bridgy!" he cried, "where's th' childer?" Mrs. Maloney gathered them up.
Just then Dad seemed to be dreaming. He swaved about. His head hung lower, and he muttered: "Shen'l'm'n, yoush disharged wish shauksh y'cun'ry."
