"Hallo, there!" he cried across the chasm; "who the--are ye? Did ye shwim across from ole Virginny, or did ye escape from a throupe of Christy Minstrels?" "You, fellow," said a mournful voice, "go at once for the poluss." "Aisier said than done," said Jem. "What am I to say suppose the gintlemin are not out of their warm beds?" "Tell them that two of Her gracious Majesty's servants are here--brought here by the worst set of ruffians that are not yet hanged in Ireland." "And what do ye expect the police to do?" said Jem, calmly. "To do? Why, to get a boat and tuk us out o' thus, I suppose!" "Look at yere feet," said Jem, "and tell me what kind of a boat would live there?" True enough. The angry waters were hissing, and embracing, and swirling back, and trying to leap the cliffs, and feeling with all their awful strength and agility for some channel through which they might reach and devour the prisoners. By some secret telegraphy a crowd had soon gathered. One by one, the "byes" dropped down from the village, and to each in turn Jem had to tell all he knew about the mermen. Then commenced a running fire of chaff from every quarter. "Where are yere banjoes, gintlemin? Ye might as well spind the Sunday pleasantly, for the sorra a wan o' ye will get off before night." "Start 'Way down the Suwanee River,' Jem, and we'll give 'em a chorus." "You're Jem Deady, I suppose," said one of the bailiffs. "Well, Deady, remember you're a marked mon. I gut yer cherickter last night from a gentleman as the greatest ruffian amongst all the ruffians of Kilronan--" "Yerra, man, ye're takin' lave of yer sinses. Is 't Jem Deady? Jem Deady, the biggest _omadhaun_ in the village." "Jem Deady, the greatest _gommal_[9] that ever lived." "Jem Deady, that doesn't know his right hand from his left." "Jem Deady, who doesn't know enough to come in out of the wet." "Jem Deady, the innocent, that isn't waned from his mother ayet." [Illustration: "Hallo, there!... who the ---- are ye?" (p. 457.)]