"Mike," said the big mayor severely, when the little alderman
had offered his greetings, "there is the divil an' all t' pay
about thim dongolas. Th' News is full of thim. 'Twill be th' ind
of us all if they do not pan out well. Have ye tried thim in th'
water yet?"
"Sure!" exclaimed the little alderman with a heartiness he did
not feel. "What has me an' Fagan been doin' all day but tryin'
thim? Have no fear of th' wather goats, Dugan."
"Do they swim well, Mike?" asked the big mayor kindly, but with
a weary heaviness he did not try to conceal.
"Swim!" exclaimed Toole. "Did ye say swim, Dugan? Swim is no
name for th' way they rip thro' the wather! 'Twas marvellous t'
see thim. Ah, thim dongolas is wonderful animals! Do ye think we
could persuade thim t' come out whin we wanted t' come home? Not
thim, Dugan! 'Twas all me an' Fagan could do t' pull thim out by
main force, an' th' minute we let go of thim, back they wint into
th' wather. 'Twas pitiful t' hear th' way they bleated t' be let
back into th' wather agin, Dugan, so we let thim stay in for th'
night.
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