Ay, an' I swore it, an' there's another, too, that's to get it, but I won't rob any body, nor join in that at all; I'll hang him here, though--ha, Darby, I have you now." As he spoke, poor Skinadre received a chuck of the halter which almost brought his tongue out as far as in the throttling process which we have before described.
"Mave, achora," said he, looking at her after his recovery from the powerful jerk he had just got, "for the sake of heaven, try an' save my life; if you don't he'll never let me out of his hands a livin' man." "Don't be alarmed, Darby," she replied, "poor Tom won't injure you; so far from that, he'll take the halter from about your neck, an' let you go.

Won't you let poor Darby go, Tom ?" "I will," he replied, "after I hang him--ha, ha, ha; 'twas he that killed her; he let her die wid hunger, but now he'll swing for it, ha, ha!" These words were accompanied by another chuck, which pulled miserable Skinadre almost off his legs.
"Tom, for shame," said Mave, "why would you do sich an unmanly thing with this poor ould crature ?--be a man, and let him go." "Ay, when he's, hangin', wid his tongue out, ha, ha, ha; wait till we get to the Rabbit Bank, where there's a tree to be had; I've sworn it, ay, on her very grave too; so good-by, Mave! Come along, Darby." "Mave, as you expect to have the gates of Heaven opened to your sowl, an' don't lave me," exclaimed the miser with clasped hands.
Mave looked up and down the road, but could perceive no one approach who might render the unfortunate man assistance.
"Tom," said she, "I must insist on your settin' the poor man at liberty; I insist upon it.

You cannot, an' you must not take his life in a Christian country; if you do, you know you will be hanged yourself.

Let him go immediately." "Oh, ay," he replied, "you insist, Mave; but I'll tell you what--I'll put Peggy in a coach yet, when I come into my fortune; an' so you'll insist, will you?
Jest look at that wrist of yours," he replied, seizing hers, but with gentleness, "and then look at this of mine; an' now will you tell me that you'll insist?
Come, Darby, we're bound for the Bank; there's not a beech there but's a hundred feet high, an' that's higher than ever I'll make you swing from.

Your heart bled for her, didn't it! but how will you look when I have you facin' the sun, wid your tongue out ?" "Tom," replied the wretch, "I go on my knees to you, an' as you hope, Tom--" "Hope, you hard-hearted hound! isn't her father's curse upon me?
ay, an' in me?
Wasn't she destroyed among us?
an' you bid me hope.