'In that case, stay here, an' look your full, an' welcome, only don't make a noise; behave like a Christian, an' hould your tongue; but if you really hate fightin', as you say----' Having reached this point in his address, but intending a good deal more, O'Flaherty suddenly stopped short, drew himself into a stooping posture, with a flush and a strange distortion, and his eyes fastened upon Father Roach with an unearthly glare for nearly two minutes, and seized Puddock upon the upper part of his arm with so awful a grip, in his great bony hand, that the gallant little gentleman piped out in a flurry of anguish-- 'O--O--O'Flaherty, Thir--_let_ go my arm, Thir.' O'Flaherty drew a long breath, uttered a short, deep groan, and wiping the moisture from his red forehead, and resuming a perpendicular position, was evidently trying to recover the lost thread of his discourse. 'There'th dethidedly thomething the matter with you, Thir,' said Puddock, anxiously, _sotto voce_, while he worked his injured arm's a little at the shoulder. 'You may say that,' said O'Flaherty, very dismally, and, perhaps, a little bitterly. 'And--and--and--you don't mean to thay--why--eh?' asked Puddock, uneasily. 'I tell you what, Puddock--there's no use in purtendin'--the poison's working--_that's_ what's the matter,' returned poor O'Flaherty, in what romance writers call 'a hissing whisper.' 'Good--merthiful--graciouth--Thir!' ejaculated poor little Puddock, in a panic, and gazing up into the brawny fireworker's face with a pallid fascination; indeed they both looked unpleasantly unlike the popular conception of heroes on the eve of battle. 'But--but it can't be--you forget Dr. Sturk and--oh, dear!--the antidote. It--I thay--it can't _be_, Thir,' said Puddock, rapidly. 'It's no use, now; but I shirked two or three spoonfuls, and I left some more in the bottom,' said the gigantic O'Flaherty, with a gloomy sheepishness. Puddock made an ejaculation--the only violent one recorded of him--and turning his back briskly upon his principal, actually walked several steps away, as if he intended to cut the whole concern. But such a measure was really not to be thought of. 'O'Flaherty--Lieutenant--I won't reproach you,' began Puddock. '_Reproach_ me! an' who _poisoned_ me, my tight little fellow?' retorted the fireworker, savagely. Puddock could only look at him, and then said, quite meekly-- 'Well, and my dear Thir, what on earth had we better do?' 'Do,' said O'Flaherty, 'why isn't it completely Hobson's choice with us? What can we do but go through with it?'