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Updated: June 15, 2025
'Oh no, old chappie, you can never beat us. Look at Mafeking. We have taken Mafeking. You will find Baden Powell waiting for you at Pretoria. Kimberley, too, will fall this week. Rhodes is trying to escape in a balloon, disguised as a woman a fine woman. Great merriment at this. 'What about Ladysmith? 'Ten days. Ten days more and then we shall have some whisky. Listen.
He had the feeling precisely as every chappie in those stories had had that he was not alone. Nor was he. In a basket behind an arm-chair, curled up, with his massive chin resting on the edge of the wicker-work, lay a fine bulldog. "Urrf!" said the bulldog. "Good God!" said Archie.
Gossett was not insensible to the arguments which had been put forward. He brushed a slice of orange from the back of his neck, and mused awhile. "How do I know this fellow would screen well?" he said, at length. "Screen well!" cried Archie. "Of course he'll screen well. Look at his face. I ask you! The map! I call your attention to it." He turned apologetically to the Sausage Chappie.
Chappie was struck by a piece of that same shell, and he got it right through the lung. Oh, how he did suffer! We couldn't take him back to the dressing-station on account of the terrific shell fire, and he lay in a sheltered part of the trench slowly bleeding to death. We took turns in going to see him. "Tell my little girl that I died fighting," he said to Bink.
He did well till a recruiting Sergeant bad luck to him that knew the McCarthys in the ould country, found him out, and they drank and talked about ould times, and the Sergeant tould him that the army was the place for Irishmen, that there would be lots of fightin'. The chance of a fight took Patrick, and nixt day he left the city in a blouse, as Fourth Corporal in an Irish Rigiment, and a prouder looking chappie, as his own Captain tould me, niver marched down Broadway.
The only time I met him late at night after that was once when I passed the door of a fairly low-down sort of restaurant and had to step aside to dodge him as he sailed through the air en route for the opposite pavement, with a muscular sort of looking chappie peering out after him with a kind of gloomy satisfaction. In a way, I couldn't help sympathizing with the fellow.
"Hey!" exclaimed Mr Stormcock, a bit puzzled at this. "What do you mean?" "I don't mean a dry nurse, you know, old chappie, though you said, you were `dry' just now," replied Larkyns, laughing at his own joke. "Nor do I mean a wet 'un. No, old chappie, I mean a wetter-un, do you twig?"
"A good name too; only it weren't his. He was a gen'lem'n born, sir, as had gone maskewerading. One of our officers knowed him at 'ome, reckonises him, steps up, 'olds out his 'and right off, and says he: ''Ullo, Norrie, old chappie! he says. The other was coming up, as bold as look at it; didn't seem put out that's where blood tells, sir!
"Poor old chappie," he murmured tenderly. He was helpless before that slow melancholy shaking of the head, that mysterious and steadfast smile. He approached tip-toe on deprecating feet. But Rickman would none of him; his whole attitude was eloquent of rebuke. He waved Spinks away with one pathetic hand; with the other he clutched and gathered round him the last remnants of his personal majesty.
"They have a big preserve up in the Adirondacks," said Betty; "and Bertie ordered his private train, and he and Chappie de Peyster and some others started that night; they drove I don't know how many miles the next day, and caught a pile of trout and we had them for breakfast the next morning!
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