I take
your flax, you ould villain! Shure I know that flax is grown to make
linen wid, not to feed oxen. God Almighty has given the crathers a
good warm coat of their own; they neither require shifts nor
shirts."
"I saw you take it, you ragged Irish vagabond, with my own eyes."
"Thin yer two eyes showed you a wicked illusion. You had betther
shut up yer head, or I'll give you that for an eye-salve that shall
make you see thrue for the time to come."
Relying upon his great size, and thinking that the slight stripling,
who, by-the-bye, was all bones and sinews, was no match for him,
Uncle Joe struck Monaghan over the head with the pitchfork. In a
moment the active lad was upon him like a wild cat, and in spite of
the difference of his age and weight, gave the big man such a
thorough dressing that he was fain to roar aloud for mercy.
"Own that you are a thief and a liar, or I'll murther you!"
"I'll own to anything whilst your knee is pressing me into a
pancake. Come now - there's a good lad - let me get up." Monaghan felt
irresolute, but after extorting from Uncle Joe a promise never to
purloin any of the hay again, he let him rise.
