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Updated: June 13, 2025
'Tis little betther I am now. "I will get Houligan to pour a bucket over my head," thinks I, an' I wud ha' risen, but I heard some wan say: "Mulvaney can take the blame av ut for the backslidin' hound he is." "Oho!" sez I, an' my head rang like a guard-room gong: "fwhat is the blame that this young man must take to oblige Tim Vulmea?" For 'twas Tim Vulmea that shpoke.
Up my back, an' in my boots, an' in the short hair av the neck that's where I kape my eyes whin I'm on duty an' the reg'lar wans are fixed. Know! Take my word for it, Sorr, ivrything an' a great dale more is known in a rig'mint; or fwhat wud be the use av a Mess Sargint, or a Sargint's wife doin' wet-nurse to the Major's baby? To reshume.
He's still over ther, nasty-drunk an' shootin' off what he's goin' t' do." He rubbed his hands in gleeful anticipation, gloating deeply in his throat: "Stirrin' times! ar! stirrin' times! . . . Now 'bout that ther hobo, Sargint " "Aw! damn th' hobo!" exploded Slavin impatiently. "Here, Nick! show me Windy's harse. Fwhat? Niver yeh mind fwhat for . . . now! Yu'll know all 'bout that later."
Afther they was all gone, I wint back to Canteen an' called for a quart to put a thought in me. Vulmea was there, dhrinkin' heavy, an' politeful to me beyond reason. "Fwhat will I do fwhat will I do?" thinks I to mesilf whin Vulmea wint away.
I do not know, sez I, 'fwhat onderhand divilmint you have conthrived, but by what I've seen I know that you cannot commit murdher wid another man's rifle such shakin' cowards you are. I'm goin' to slape, I sez, 'an' you can blow my head off whoile I lay. I did not slape, though, for a long time. Can ye wonder?
But, as I was goin' to tell you, I fell acrost the Black Tyrone agin wan day whin we wanted thim powerful bad, Orth'ris, me son, fwhat was the name av that place where they sint wan comp'ny av us an' wan av the Tyrone roun' a hill an' down again, all for to tache the Paythans something they'd niver learned before? Afther Ghuzni 'twas." "Don't know what the bloomin' Paythans called it.
Recruities sometime cry, an' sometime they don't know fwhat they do, an' sometime they are all for cuttin' throats an' such like dirtiness; but some men get heavy-dead-dhrunk on the fightin'. This man was. He was staggerin', an' his eyes were half shut, an' we cud hear him dhraw breath twinty yards away. He sees the little orf'cer bhoy, an' comes up, talkin' thick an' drowsy to himsilf.
But, to George, who possessed a musical ear, the ringing tenor sounded rather airily and sweetly "Hark! hark! the lark at Heaven's Gate sings, And Phoebus 'gins arise, His steeds to water at those springs " "Fwhat yez know 'bout that?" Slavin forked viciously at the bacon he was frying. "Blarney my sowl! an' him not up for 'Shtables' at all! . . ."
"I misremimber fwhat nonsinse I said, but I was not so far gone that I cud not hear a fut on the dirt outside. 'Twas Bragin comin' in, an' by the same token Annie was comin' to. I jumped to the far end av the veranda an' looked as if butter wudn't melt in my mouth. But Mrs. Quinn, the Quarter-Master's wife that was, had tould Bragin about my hangin' round Annie.
Lead on to that raffle, though fwhat the mischief 'tis doin' so far away from uts home which is the charity-bazaar at Christmas, an' the colonel's wife grinnin' behind the tea-table is more than I know." Wid that I wint to the shed an' found 'twas pay-day among the coolies.
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