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Yan feebly agreed, but had much difficulty in seeing what the plant had in common with the others. "An' luk here! Thayer ye got Lowbelier, that some calls Injun tobaccer. Ye found this by the crick, an' it's a little airly ahead o' toime. That's the shtuff to make ye throw up when ye want to. Luk, ain't that lafe the livin' shape of a shtummick?
"Dunder und blitzens!" gasped Hans. "I don'd tole you dot!" "Get away wid yer blarney!" exclaimed Barney, disbelievingly. "Pwhat do yez take us fer, Oi warnt to know? It's nivver a bit do ye shtuff sich a yarrun down aour throats, me b'y." "You are not compelled to believe it." "Cintipades in th' winter!" snorted the Irish lad. "Thot bates th' band!"
Arrived once more at Headquarters we were pressed to a petit verre of some very hot and raw liqueur, but nevertheless very warming, and very good. I felt I agreed with the Irish coachman who at his first taste declared "The shtuff was made in Hiven but the Divil himself invinted the glasses!" We had got terribly cold in the trenches.
Tom Kelcey, aged fourteen, squinted critically at the long festoon of ground-pine between the centre of the chimney-breast and the angle of the dingy old oak-beamed ceiling. "Drop her a couple of inches, Misther Brown," he suggested. "No, not so much. There, that's the shtuff. Now you've got her, foine and dandy."
Well, I got along to me room, sick an' sorry enough, an' doubtsome whether I might get in wid no key. But there was the key in the open door, an', by this an' that, all the shtuff in the room chair, table, bed, an' all was shtandin' on their heads twisty-ways, an' the bedclothes an' every thin' else; such a disgraceful stramash av conglomerated thruck as ye niver dhreamt av.
"Try formalin; it's pretty fierce on the eyes and nose, but it won't kill 'em; and, if you put a teaspoonful in the bottom of each cage, by the time it evaporates no germ that gets into that cage will live long enough to do any harm." Five days later back he came, red-eyed but triumphant. "Dogdor, dot vormaleen iss de pest shtuff I effer saw.
"No, ye won't dare, ye Dutch coward. Av ye had a bit av spunk in yer body, ye'd challenge him to wance." "Vell, you pet me my boots I don'd vos a coward," declared Hans, emphatically. "I'll vight dot feller!" "Thot's th' shtuff, me b'y!" cried the delighted Barney. "Let me take th' challenge." "Nod py a plamed sight! I don'd vant a pog-drotter to done some uf dot peesness for me, ain'd id?
"Don't tantalize wid talkin' av dhrink, or I'll shtuff you into your own breech-block an' fire you off!" grunted Mulvaney. Ortheris chuckled, and from a niche in the veranda produced six bottles of ginger ale. "Where did ye get ut, ye Machiavel?" said Mulvaney. "'Tis no bazar pop." "'Ow do Hi know wot the Orf'cers drink?" answered Ortheris. "Arst the mess-man."
'Don't tantalise wid talkin' av dhrink, or I'll shtuff you into your own breech-block an' fire you off! grunted Mulvaney. Ortheris chuckled, and from a niche in the veranda produced six bottles of gingerade. 'Where did ye get ut, ye Machiavel? said Mulvaney. ''Tis no bazar pop. ''Ow do Hi know wot the Orf'cers drink? answered Ortheris. 'Arst the mess-man.
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