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By perfeshun I'm a exhibiter of wax works & sich." "Good God!" yelled the Kurnal, "the idee of a exhibiter of wax figgers goin into the presents of Royalty! The British Lion may well roar with raje at the thawt!" Sez I, "Speakin of the British Lion, Kurnal, I'd like to make a bargin with you fur that beast fur a few weeks to add to my Show." I didn't meen nothin by this.
Then he wrote a short letter: "Deer Annie: I once more take my pen in hand to tell you there's grate news. I'm an ossifer. We had an awful fite yisterdy. I don't know how menny rebbles I kild, but I guess thare was enuff to start a good sized graveyard. I tuk a prizner, too, and the Kurnal says to me bully fer you, Mister Klegg, or sumthin to that effeck.
It was a long time since he had heard from there, and he was beginning to wonder if anything had happened, when Peter brought him an odd-looking letter, directed wrong side up, written with a pencil, and having about it a faint perfume of very bad tobacco. It was addressed to "Mr. Kurnal Krompton, Troutberg, Mass."
The poor fellow seemed to be very anxious to help them. "What is your name?" demanded the sailor. "When did you leave the regiment?" "Two years ago, sahib. I killed " "What was the name of your Colonel?" "Kurnal I-shpence-sahib, a brave man, but of no account on a horse."
I was only gettin orf a goak, but you roter hev seen the Old Kurnal jump up & howl. He actooally fomed at the mowth. "This can't be real," he showtid. "No, no. It's a horrid dream. Sir, you air not a human bein you hav no existents yure a Myth!" "Wall," sez I, "old hoss, yule find me a ruther onkomfortable Myth ef you punch my inards in that way agin."
Sez I, "Albert Edard, is that you?" & he smilt & sed it was. Sez I, "Albert Edard, hears my keerd. I cum to pay my respecks to the futer King of Ingland. The Kurnal of the Seventy Onesters hear is ruther smawl pertaters, but of course you ain't to blame fur that. He puts on as many airs as tho he was the Bully Boy with the glass eye."
I began to git a little riled, fur when he called me a Myth he puncht me putty hard. The Kurnal now commenst showtin fur the Seventy Onesters.
"Nobody will know if I read it, and I shall hold my tongue, as usual," he thought, his curiosity at last overcoming his sense of honor. Opening the envelope, he took out the piece of foolscap, on which was neither date nor name of place. "Kurnal Krompton," it began. "Yer fren' in Palatky done gone to Europe.
I will hide among the trees, and I promise that some of them shall die to-night before they find me. For the honor of the regiment, sahib, do not refuse this thing. All I ask is, if your honor escapes, that you will write to Kurnal I-shpence-sahib, and tell him the last act of Mir Jan, naik in B troop." There was an intense pathos in the man's words.
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