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Updated: August 2, 2024
An' when they putt me into this here room, an' produced the beans an' oil, I began to feel quite easy in my mind about you. It was the man that brought your marchin' orders that told 'em to putt me here. D'ee know, lad, I can't help feelin' that a friend o' some sort must have bin raised up to us." "You're right, Jack, I have just seen the Arab whose life I saved, and who saved yours!
"Close up there in front!" commanded Shorty. "Keep marchin' distance 19 inches from back to breast. Come on, Pete. Gi' me your hand; I'll help you along." "I ain't no kid, to be led along by the hand," answered Pete sturdily, refusing the offer. "I'll keep up somehow. But you can't expect my short legs to cover as much ground as them telegraph poles o' your'n."
We was marchin' hame victorious, Lord Ronald ridin' awa to the front, wi' young Ronald by his side, when a' in a moment an airmed man on a horse sprang frae a thicket an' thrust my lord i' the back wi' his sword. He fell withoot a groan. Young Ronald, he drew his sword like a flash o' licht, but it was too late; the murderer's knife plunged deep into his brave young heart.
Well, he went down to the civil service office and tackled the fool questions. I saw him next day it was Memorial Day, and soldiers were marchin' and flags flyin' and people cheerin'. Where was my young man? Standin' on the corner, scowlin' at the whole show. When I asked him why he was so quiet, he laughed in a wild sort of way and said: "What rot all this is!"
Course I didn't hear the details; but all of a sudden something happened that caused a grand howl. I know Sadie was consulted, then Mrs. Hollister was sent for, and it ended by Robin marchin' into the studio one mornin' to say good-by. He explains that he's bein' shipped home. They'd got a job for him with an uncle out in the country somewhere.
Did home, love, happiness sound out to her, out of them hombly strains? I'd have gin a cent to know. And I'd have gin a cent quick to know if the tread tread tread of the crowd goin' past her day after day, hour after hour, seems to her like the trample of Time a marchin' on.
We wint down, by the special grace av God down the Khaiber anyways. There was sick wid us, an' I'm thinkin' that some av them was jolted to death in the doolies, but they was anxious to be kilt so if they cud get to Peshawur alive the sooner. I walked by Love-o'-Women there was no marchin', an' Love-o'-Women was not in a stew to get on.
Don't ye believe thim lads with lumber ya-ards on their necks an' bar'ls on their feet was coerced. There wasn't wan iv thim that wudden't give his week's wages f'r a chanst to show how many times he cud thrip over a manhole in a mile. No more coerced than ye are whin ye r-run down town an' make an ape iv ye-ersilf. I see ye marchin' away fr'm Finucane's with th' Willum J. O'Briens.
Harry was saluted with a running fire of chaff. "Turn your horse's head, young feller, the enemy ain't that way. He's in front." "He's forgot his toothbrush, Bill, and he's going back in a hurry to get it." "If I had a horse like that I'd ride him in the right direction." "Tell 'em in Winchester that the foot cavalry are marchin' a hundred miles an hour." Harry did not resent these comments.
He waded squarely through the raging streams, turning at times to help the next boy to him, strode over the fallen limbs, and took the dashing downpour with stolid indifference. "Close up, boys! Close up!" shouted Shorty from time to time, "Don't mind a little sprinkle like this. It'll lay the dust, and make marchin' easier. Come along, Peter, my son. I'm not goin' to lose you."
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