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For a few seconds they lay close while the enemy rushed past like a torrent, to the assault just described. Then Moses uprose, with an expression of stern resolve on his usually meek countenance. "Simkin," he said, as his comrade also got up, "I'm not goin' to lie hidin' here while our boys are engaged wi' the savages."
It was a pigeon-hole of a room, narrow, up a dark stair. They had no means of support. The room was empty. Everything had been pawned. The last thing given up was the woman's shawl to pay the rent, and they were starving." "Why didn't they go to the work'us?" asked Simkin.
At the same time they gave a big-coat to the old man." "But, I say," interrupted Simkin, "that Christmas feed an' shawl an' coat wouldn't keep the couple for a twel'month, if they was sent home to starve as before, would it?" "Of course not," returned the marine, "but they wasn't sent off to starve; they was looked after.
Here more drink was smuggled on board the train, and, as a natural consequence, men became troublesome. A morose man named Sutherland, who was apt to grow argumentative and quarrelsome in his cups, made an assertion in reference to something terrestrial, which had no particular interest for any mortal man. Simkin contradicted it. Sutherland repeated it.
The hero of Cervantes argued not the point with more seriousness, nor had he more faith, or more to say on the powers of necromancy in dishonouring his deeds, or on Dulcinea's name, in shedding lustre upon them, than my father had on those of Trismegistus or Archimedes, on the one hand or of Nyky and Simkin on the other.
"Die like fools!" growled Simkin, as he suffered his hands to be manacled. "No, no, Jack," said Armstrong; "don't be rash. Let's bide our time. There's no sayin' what'll turn up." "Well, well," sighed Molloy, resigning himself to his fate, "there's only one thing now that's sartin sure to turn up, an' that is the sod that'll cover our graves."
Here, hook on and pocket your pride. You'll have to do the same thing for me to-morrow, may-hap, when I give in. And if it does come to that I'll lean heavy, I promise you." "You're a good fellow, Stevenson, even though you are a Blue Light," said Simkin, taking the proffered arm. "Perhaps it's because I am a Blue Light," returned the marine, with a laugh.
"No more do I," remarked the sailor, stretching himself like a wearied Goliath on the earthen floor, and placing his arms under his head for a pillow. "I feel pretty well used up too," said Simkin, throwing himself down with a sigh that was more eloquent than his tongue. He was indeed anything but Rattling Bill by that time.
"You may well ask why not," said Sergeant Hardy. "I think it wisest to look always on the bright side of things." "Whether it's dreary or pleasant we'll have to make the best we can of it, boys," said Stevenson; "for this is to be our home for some time to come." "Horrible!" growled Simkin, whose spirit was essentially rebellious.
"Well, I might have guessed it," returned Simkin, "from the kindly way in which she shook hands with a lot of soldiers just now." "Yes, she has shook hands with a good many red-coats in her day, has the `Soldier's Friend," returned the manager.
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