Vietnam or Thailand ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Updated: June 17, 2025
'An' wheer's he to come through? says I. 'Learoyd, my man, he sings out, 'you're a pretty man av your inches an' a good comrade, but your head is made av duff. Isn't our friend Orth'ris a Taxidermist, an' a rale artist wid his nimble white fingers? An' what's a Taxidermist but a man who can thrate shkins?
Thin we knew where Lungtungpen was; for we had hit the river-wall av it in the dhark, an' the whole town blazed wid thim messin' jingles an' Sniders like a cat's back on a frosty night. They was firin' all ways at wanst, but over our hids into the shtrame. "'Have you got your rifles? sez Brazenose. 'Got 'em! sez Orth'ris.
'Bhoys, said the culprit, still shaking gently, 'whin I've done my tale you may cry if you like, an' little Orth'ris here can thrample my inside out. Ha' done an' listen. My performances have been stupenjus: my luck has been the blessed luck av the British Army an' there's no betther than that. I went out dhrunk an' dhrinkin' in the palanquin, and I have come back a pink god.
What coom to t' three hundred and fifty rupees? Thot's what I can scarcelins tell yo', but we melted it we melted it. It was share an' share alike, for Mulvaney said: 'If Learoyd got hold of Mrs. DeSussa first, sure 'twas I that renumbered the Sargint's dog just in the nick av time, an' Orth'ris was the artist av janius that made a work av art out av that ugly piece av ill-nature.
If Rip hed a fault it was too mich markin', but it was straingely reg'lar an' Orth'ris settled himself to make a fost-rate job on it when he got haud o' t' Canteen Sargint's dog. Theer niver was sich a dog as thot for bad temper, an' it did nut get no better when his tail hed to be fettled an inch an' a half shorter. But they may talk o' theer Royal Academies as they like.
"I was his batman before he was married an' he knows fwhat I mane, av you don't. There's nothin' like livin' in the hoight av society." D'you remimber that, Orth'ris! 'Hi do. Toomey, 'e died in 'orspital, next week it was, 'cause I bought 'arf his kit; an' I remember after that The Relief had come; it was four o'clock.
"The what, Mulvaney?" "Fog av fightin'. You know, sorr, that, like makin' love, ut takes each man diff'rint. Now I can't help bein' powerful sick whin I'm in action. Orth'ris, here, niver stops swearin' from ind to ind, an' the only time that Learoyd opins his mouth to sing is whin he is messin' wid other people's heads; for he's a dhirty fighter is Jock.
"Orth'ris, me son," said Mulvaney, hastily, "'tis more than likely you've got throuble in your inside wid the beer. I feel that way mesilf whin my liver gets rusty." Ortheris went on slowly, not heeding the interruption "I'm a Tommy a bloomin', eight-anna, dog-stealin' Tommy, with a number instead of a decent name. Wot's the good o' me?
"An' the orf'cers av the rig'mint I was in in thim days was orfcers gran' men, wid a manner on 'em, an' a way wid 'em such as is not made these days all but wan wan o' the capt'ns. A bad dhrill, a wake voice, an' a limp leg thim three things are the signs av a bad man. You bear that in your mind, Orth'ris, me son.
A shadow fell on the drawbridge, and Ortheris began to rise into the air, lifted by a huge hand upon his collar. 'Onything but t' braass, said Learoyd quietly, as he held the Londoner over the ditch. 'Onything but t' braass, Orth'ris, ma son! Ah've got one rupee eight annas of ma own. He showed two coins, and replaced Ortheris on the drawbridge rail.
Word Of The Day
Others Looking