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Updated: June 26, 2025
The sentry, seeing that he ate nothing, came inside and shook him by the shoulder, saying in a kind voice: "Cheero, laddie, better eat something. You'll feel better. Don't give up hope. You'll be pardoned before morning. I know the way they run these things. They're only trying to scare you, that's all. Come now, that's a good lad, eat something. It'll make the world look different to you."
It's one of the classic poems, like "If" by Kipling, or Ella Wheeler Wilcox's "The Man Worth While"; and I always carry this clipping of it in my note-book: "When I am out upon the road, a poet with a pedler's load I mostly sing a hearty song, and take a chew and hike along, a-handing out my samples fine of Cheero Brand of sweet sunshine, and peddling optimistic pokes and stable lines of japes and jokes to Lyceums and other folks, to Rotarys, Kiwanis' Clubs, and feel I ain't like other dubs.
Stane answered the hail, and a few minutes later when the man halted his dogs he saw that he was mistaken in concluding the new-comer was the owner of the cabin, for he was garbed in the winter dress of the Nor-west Mounted Police. "Cheero," said the policeman in greeting. "Where's Jean Bènard?" Stane shook his head. "Don't know. Is Jean Bènard the owner of the cabin?"
One by one the casualties are lifted in or climb in stiffly. Our Jock, who has a bullet in his chest, is lifted in. Straps are fastened securely and tarpaulins tied. 'All aboard, sir! 'Right! Well, so long, Hadley! 'Cheero, Scott! The ambulances start very cautiously, and crawl up the road. It is in execrable condition, for work in daylight here is impossible.
He looked a little disconsolately around, and was on the point of rejoining the others when the friend for whom he was searching came hurriedly through the turnstile doors. "Sandy, old chap," Holderness exclaimed, with an air of relief, "here you are at last!" "Cheero, Dick!" was the light-hearted reply. "Fearfully sorry I'm late, but listen just listen for one moment."
We did not mind, though no doubt some of us wished that a shell would hit us and end our misery. Personally, I was not particular. It was nothing but bump, jolt, rattle, and bang. Several times the driver would turn around and give us a "Cheero, mates, we'll soon be there " fine fellows, those ambulance drivers, a lot of them go West too.
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