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God forgive the black heart of him, shtandin' out there cursin' the wide wurruld!" The Avocat looked at the Sergeant's wife musingly, the fingers of his hands tapping together, but he did not speak: he was becoming wiser all in a moment as to the ways of women. "An' now he's in bed, the shtrappin' blasphemer, fur the could he got shtandin' there in the snow cursin' the wide wurruld.
"Eyah!" grumbled Slavin, "seems I cannot hilp bein' cuk an' shtandin' orderly-man around here. I thried out Yorkey. . . . Wan day on'y tho' 'tis th' divil's own cuk he is. 'Sarjint! sez he, 'I'm no bowatchee' which in Injia he tells me means same as cuk. An' he tould th' trute at that."
'The Roosians are chargin' here they come! Shtandin' besoide me was a bit of a lump of a b'y, as foine a lad as ever shtood in the boots of me rigimint aw! the look of his face was the look o' the dead. 'The Roosians are comin' they're chargin'! says Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick, and the bit av a b'y, that had nothin' to eat all day, throws down his gun and turns round to run.
"He was shtandin' by th' Gyard-room gate that day-week whin th' dhraft marched out on their way tu enthrain Nobby amongst thim. 'Good-bye, Docthor! he calls out, tears in th' eyes av um, ''Tis sendhin me tu me grave y'are, God forgive yez! "'Nonsince! shouts Knockemorf. 'Say yeh prayers an' kape yeh bowils opin, me man, an' ye will take no harrm!
Gallagher turned to Adair with his red-apple face wrinkling dismayfully. "'Tis up to me to push thot felly's face in, Misther Adair; and what wid two nights and a day, shtandin', and wan fight wid a bully twice me size, I'm not man enough." Adair tossed away the stump of his cigarette. "You're quite sure that is what is needed?" he queried.
The b'ys of the rigimint shtandin' shoulder to shoulder, an' the faces av 'm blue wid powder, an' red wid blood, an' the bits o' b'ys droppin' round me loike twigs of an' ould tree in a shtorm. Just a cry an' a bit av a gurgle tru the teeth, an' divil the wan o' thim would see the Liffey side anny more. "'The Roosians are chargin'! shouts Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick.
So wild was he, yesterday it was a week, so black mad wid somethin' I'd said to him and somethin' that shlipped from me hand at his head, that he turns his back on me, throws opin the dure, shteps out into the shnow, and shtandin' there alone, he curses the wide wurruld oh, dear Misther Garon, he cursed the wide wurruld, shtandin' there in the snow!
No use us shtandin here longer gassin' like a bunch av ould washer-wimmin full av gin an' throuble." In silence they trudged on to the detachment. "'Ome, sweet 'ome! be it never so 'umble!" quoth Yorke, as they reached their destination, "Hullo! who's this coming along?" Shading his eyes with his hand he gazed down the trail. "Looks like Doctor Cox and Lanky."
For just a second Irish hesitated as if expecting further enlightenment, but, receiving none, reached down and grasped the tail of the white wolf. "'Tis a foine robe she'll make, Bill, an' in th' North, among white min an' Injuns, 'twill give ye place an' shtandin' but not wid Moncrossen," he added with a frown. "Come on along. Foller yez in behint, f'r th' thrail'll be fair br-roke.
But Sergeant-Major Kilpatrick a bit of a liar was the Sergeant-Major says he: 'It was tin ye killed, Kilquhanity. He says that to me the noight that I left the rigimint for ever, and all the b'ys shtandin' round and liftin' lasses an' saying, 'Kilquhanity! Kilquhanity! Kilquhanity! as if it was sugar and honey in their mouths. Aw, the sound of it!
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