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Updated: May 25, 2025
She was trembling, too, and laughing. "Will I wait!" called back the puffing O'Malley, every bit of the Irish in him beaming from his eyes. "I'll be there when you get back as sure as your name's McBuck." From his pocket he took a round, silver Western dollar and, still running, tossed it to the toothy Sam.
He flung them off impatiently at once. The damp and freezing night rushed in upon us like a presence. It made me shudder, but O'Malley only raised himself upon one elbow to taste it better, and to listen. Then, waiting patiently for the return of the quiet, trance-like state when I might cover him again, I moved toward the window and looked out.
"Dream your great dream if you will, but dream it, my friend, alone in peace and silence. That 'one' I speak of is yourself." The doctor pressed his hand and turned toward his cabin. O'Malley stood a little longer to share the sunrise. Neither spoke another word. He heard the door shut softly behind him.
Turlough had made camp a short mile from the castle, on a little hill among the farms; both Nuala and the O'Malley men were somewhat surprised at finding the O'Donnell women and children safe and untouched in their own steads. "I saw to that," laughed Turlough, slanting his crafty eyes at Brian. "I had but to threaten them in Brian's name, and the men only were slain."
One glance and she had joined the group that now surrounded a slender figure with a rosy, laughing face and a saucy turned-up nose. "Nora O'Malley! You dear thing! No wonder David didn't hear from Hippy. But where is he? Not far away, I hope." "Ah!" called a voice from behind the thin silk curtain of a small alcove at one end of the hall, and Hippy emerged, the picture of offended dignity.
"I came out of that canal, and it was a bit chilly," Stan answered. "I'd appreciate some dry clothing." "American!" the officer exclaimed. "A spy dressed in the clothes of a farmer." "I just borrowed these. I'm not a spy. You can check up on that." Then Stan clamped his lips shut. If he revealed his identity now, the Germans would know where to look for O'Malley and Sim.
They had been assigned to active duty. Stan smiled at them but he was thinking that they were taking the places of the men who had been in his flight. The boys were waiting for the colonel when Sim Jones came out of a side door. He paused for a moment. Stan eyed him coldly; O'Malley walked on into the colonel's office without speaking. "I suppose you think I deliberately tricked you, Wilson.
And now I must say adieu; the regiments are about to take up a more advanced position, so good-by. I hope you'll have a pleasant time of it till we meet again." "It is now twelve o'clock, Mr. O'Malley," said Beaumont; "we may rely upon your immediate departure. Your written instructions and despatches will be here within a quarter of an hour."
He was in left-hand slot, second flight, Second High Squadron, the hottest spot in a bomber formation. Stan eased over a bit and shook O'Malley off his wing. Sim was waggling his wings, ordering the boys to spread out and get set for interception. Red Flight spread out but stayed in position like a football team moving into formation for a screen pass.
O'Malley will report himself, immediately on the receipt of this letter, at the headquarters of the regiment to which he is gazetted." Few and simple as the lines were, how brimful of pleasure they sounded to my ears. The regiment to which I was gazetted! And so I was a soldier at last! The first wish of my boyhood was then really accomplished. And my uncle, what will he say; what will he think?
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