United States or Finland ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
That very night, while gentle sleep The people's eyelids kiss'd, Two stern-faced men set out from Lynn, Through the cold and heavy mist; And Eugene Aram walk'd between, With gyves upon his wrist. Slowly the memorable June day had drawn to a close, and now darkness had set in and the moon shone brightly down upon the old detachment of Davidsburg.
"The Old Man's offered me Dudley's job, but I don't want a staff job. I want to go back to Davidsburg. Who cares to be stuck around the Post?" "Me for one!" retorted the old soldier grinning, "Jes' now, anyway. Listen, son! Th' Old Man 'e sez to me: ''Ardy! 'e sez, 'you've bin 'it pretty bad and I find you deserve a softer class of dewty than goin' back t' prisoner's escort.
You're transferred to the Davidsburg detachment. I'll give you your transport-requisition later." The storm doors banged behind him, and then, Redmond, not without design, forced himself to saunter slowly very slowly upstairs again, whistling nonchalantly the while. Expectant faces greeted him. "What's up?" they chorused. With a fine assumption of indifference he briefly informed them.
I have here" he fumbled through some papers "a request from Sergeant Slavin for another man at Davidsburg. I am transferring you there. Good men, too. If this occurs again damme!" he glared at his subordinate "I'll er bring that Irish 'ginthleman' into the Post for a summary explanation. Wire him of this man's transfer! . . . All right, Sergeant-Major!"
Now, gabbling away to himself in the throes of delirium, ever his feverish eyes stared beyond the hospital-walls westwards to Davidsburg. With his brow contracted with an expression of vague worry, he was living over and over again the memorable night in which he had gotten his wound. "Slavin!
Thin shplit, an' hug th' line west, yu', Yorkey as far as Coalmore yu', Ridmond back tu Cow Run. Yez know fwhat tu du. Pass up nothin' culverts, bridges, section-huts anywhere's th' shtiff may be hidin'. If yez du not dhrop onto um betune thim tu places shtay fwhere yez are an' search all freights. 'Phone th' agent at Davidsburg if yez want tu get me. I'm away from there now to wire east an' west.
McCullough, busily burnishing a bit, shrugged deprecatingly and laughed. Hardy, putting the last touches to his revolver-holster, made answer, George thought, with peculiar reticence. "Wot, Yorkey? . . . oh, 'e's a 'oly terror 'e is. . . . You arst Crampton," he mumbled "arst Taylor they wos at Davidsburg wiv 'im. Slavin's orl right but Yorkey!". . . He looked unutterable things.
The party was on the station platform. Yorke and McSporran fell in briskly on either side of their heavily-manacled prisoner, and stood watching the distant lights of the oncoming east-bound train as it rounded the Davidsburg bend.
The children insisted on bidding their late chum a cuddling, osculatory farewell Alice tearfully holding up the snuffling Porkey for his share. The train drew up at the Davidsburg platform, there came a chorus of "Good-byes" and a few minutes later George was left alone with his kit-bags on the deserted platform. St. Agnes' Eve. Ah! bitter chill it was.
Number Six, from the East, drew up at the small platform of Davidsburg and presently steamed slowly on its way westward, minus three passengers. "Well, bhoys," said Sergeant Slavin to his henchmen, "here we are -back tu th' land av our dhreams wanst more. Glory be! But I'm glad tu be quit av that warrm, shtinkin' courthroom. Denis Ryan th' ould rapparee, he wint afther us harrd in that last case.
Word Of The Day