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"And, what's more, we'll see the Diver come pluggin' along here before we get this job done," Jimmie went on. "That Captain Moore and his son are out for blood." "But the Diver will require at least a couple of months to get here," urged Frank. "We can get away before that time." "You don't know what the Moores will do," Ned said.
I knowed wan iv thim gun twirlers wanst. He was a burrd pluggin' tomatty cans an' such a fair wonder he was. But wan day he starts to make a pinwheel iv his finger forninst a stranger he mistakes fer a tindherfut, an' he gets th' face iv him blowed in be a derringer from that same stranger's coat pocket." "Sure," McHale agreed. "It was comin' to him. He should have stuck to tomatter cans.
We'll keep pluggin' along afoot, on guard or anywhere else, same's we have all the time." Thus rudely was shattered another of Si Klegg's bright illusions. The whole regiment turned out to witness the ceremony of guard-mounting. It was the first time the exigencies of the campaign had permitted the 200th Ind. to do this in regular style.
"Sure, that's a poor game, Pierre," he whispered; "an' I'd rather be pluggin' their hides wid bullets, or givin' the double-an'-twist. It's fightin' I come for, and not the trick av Mother Kilkevin." Pierre arranged a plan of campaign at once. Every man looked to his gun, the gates were slowly opened, and Macavoy stepped out.
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