"Holy shade of St. Patrick!" moaned Larry; again he made a mighty
effort to tear himself from the frog-man's grip; gave up with a groan.
"Listen, _alanna_!" he said plaintively. "When we get to Ireland, you
and I, we won't have anybody to pick us up and carry us about every
time we get a bit tired. And it's getting me in bad habits you are!"

"Oh, _yes_, we will, Larry!" cried the handmaiden, "because many, oh,
many, of my _Akka_ will go with us!"

"Will you tell this--BOOB!--to put me down!" gritted the now
thoroughly aroused O'Keefe. I couldn't help laughing; he glared at me.

"Bo-oo-ob?" exclaimed Lakla.

"Yes, boo-oo-ob!" said O'Keefe, "an' I have no desire to explain the
word in my present position, light of my soul!"

The handmaiden sighed, plainly dejected. But she spoke again to the
_Akka_, who gently lowered the O'Keefe to the floor.

"I don't understand," she said hopelessly, "if you want to walk, why,
of course, you shall, Larry." She turned to me.

"Do you?" she asked.

"I do not," I said firmly.

"Well, then," murmured Lakla, "go you, Larry and Goodwin, with Kra and
Gulk, and let them minister to you. After, sleep a little--for not
soon will Rador and Olaf return. And let me feel your lips before you