'Tis a pity--"
"Stop!" cried Casey. "I have it! Thim was kid shoes. Thim
dongolas was kid shoes."
"So said, Casey," said Duo'an "For th' kid."
"No," said Casey, "of th' kid."
"Sure!" said Gravemeyer. So it is--the shoes of the child."
"Right fer ye!" exclaimed Casey. "Th' kid shoes of th' kid.
'Twas kid leather they were made out of, Dugan. Th' dongola is
some fancy kind of a goat. Like box-calf is th' skin of th' calf
of th' box-cow. Th' dongola is some foreign kind of a goat,
Dugan."
"Ho, ho-o-o!" cried Toole, suddenly, knocking on his forehead
with the knuckles of his fist. The three men turned their eyes
upon him and stared.
"What ails ye now, Mike?" asked Dugan, disgustedly.
"Ho-o-o!" he cried again, slapping himself on the top of his
head. "Me mind is comm' back t' me, Dugan! Th' effects of th'
knock-out drops is wearin' off! I recall now that th' dongola is
some fancy kind of a goat. 'Twill all come back t' me soon.
"Go along wid ye!" exclaimed Dugan. "Would ye be puttin' a goat
in th' lake for th' kids t' ride on?"
"Sure!" said Toole enthusiastically.
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