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Updated: May 15, 2025
The Major groans, but can do nothing. Presently there is a fresh block. "What is it this time?" inquires the afflicted Kemp. "More wounded, or are we being photographed?" The answer races joyously down the line "Gairman prisoners, sirr seeventy of them!" This time the Major acts with promptness and decision. "Prisoners? No, they don't!
We are holding our own, Bobby. What's that, Sergeant?" "The Commanding Officer, sirr," announced Sergeant Carfrae, "has just passed up that we are to keep a sharp look-out to our left. They've commenced for to bomb the English regiment now." "Golly, both flanks! This is getting a trifle steep," remarked Wagstaffe. Detonations could now be distinctly heard upon the left.
No cardsharping then. One of those fellows got his hand nailed to the table by a dagger. Somewhere here lord Edward Fitzgerald escaped from major Sirr. Stables behind Moira house. Damn good gin that was. Fine dashing young nobleman. Good stock, of course. That ruffian, that sham squire, with his violet gloves gave him away. Course they were on the wrong side. They rose in dark and evil days.
After that I went to the detail camp and found that Ivery had duly arrived. 'The prisoner has given no trouble, sirr, Hamilton reported. 'But he's a wee thing peevish. They're saying that the Gairmans is gettin' on fine, and I was tellin' him that he should be proud of his ain folk. But he wasn't verra weel pleased. Three days had wrought a transformation in Ivery.
They are firing straight along the gallery now. I will return the compliment. Ouch!" "What's the matter, sirr?" inquired the anxious voice of Howie, as his officer, who had tried to fire round the corner with his left hand, gave a sudden exclamation and rolled over upon his side. "I must have been hit the first time," he explained. "Collar-bone, I think.
Accordin' to instructions I provided him wi' a rifle, but he didna seem to ken how to handle it. It was your orders, sirr, that he was to have means to defend hisself if the enemy cam on, so Amos gie'd him a trench knife. But verra soon he looked as if he was ettlin' to cut his throat, so I deprived him of it. Hamilton stopped for breath.
At the end of half an hour the Piccadilly Tube was lined with sufficient explosive material securely rammed and tamped to ensure the permanent closing of the line. Still no Boche had been seen or heard. "Now, Howie," said Bertie the Badger, fingering the fuse, "what about it?" "About what, sirr?" inquired Howie, who was not quite au fait with current catch-phrases.
At this question the poetry died out of Christie Johnstone's face, she gave her companion a rapid look, indiscernible by male eye, and answered: "Three a penny, sirr; they are no plenty the day," added she, in smooth tones that carried conviction. "Saunders, buy them all, and be ever so long about it; count them, or some nonsense." "He's daft! he's daft!
"I would say, sirr, that the place was west of the mansion-hoose." "There's a good deal of land west of that mansion-house, you know," expostulates the Captain gently; "but we are getting on. Thompson?" "I would say, sir," replies Thompson, puckering his brow, "that it was in ablow they trees." "It would be hard to indicate the exact trees you meant. Trees are too common. You try, Corporal King."
"Private McNulty, sirr!" announces the Sergeant-Major to the Company Commander, with the air of a popular lecturer on entomology placing a fresh insect under the microscope. Captain Blaikie addresses the shivering culprit "Private McNulty; charged with destroying Government property. Corporal Mather!"
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