then he darted into th' haase an' bawled aght "Heigh lads! do come,--
somdy's set th' pighoil o' fire."

Aght they flew an' sure enuff thear it wor reekin away' like a brick
kiln.

"Sleck th' inside first," says Jim, an' in a twinklin one pailful after
another wor splashed in. Slinger sooin wacken'd but he wor fast what to
mak on it,--he thowt he must be dreamin ov a storm at sea or summat.

"Howd on! Howd on!" he yell'd aght "what have yo agate?"

"Do luk sharp lads," says Jim, "ther's somdy inside they'll be burnt to
th' deeath. Bring some watter some on yo."

"Ther is noan," they says, "its all done."

"Why mucky watter 'll sleck as weel as clean, give us howd of a pailful
o' swill. We munnot have th' poor body burnt to th' deeath."

Just as Slinger was rushin aght o'th' door he gate a reglar dooas 'at
ommost floor'd him.

"Nah lads, lets stop a bit, says Jim, aw think th' dangers ommost
ovver,--lets see who this chap is. It's happen somdy at wanted to burn
owd Molly aght o' haase an' harbor."

Slinger brast aght o'th' door like a roarin lion,--but he wor sooin
collard, an' he wor soa bedisend with soft cake an' puttaty pillins at
his own mother could'nt ha owned him.