he come into barricks wan afternoon whin’ I was settlin’ my cowlick
before goin’ walkin’, called me a big baboon (which I was not), an’ a
demoralisin’ beggar (which I was), an’ bid me go on fatigue thin an’
there, helpin’ shift E. P. tents, fourteen av thim from the rest-camps.
At that, me bein’ set on my walk--’
‘Ah!’ from under the dogs, ‘’e’s a Mormon, Vic. Don’t you ’ave nothin’
to do with ’im, little dorg.’
‘Set on my walk, I tould him a few things that came up in my mind, an’
wan thing led on to another, an’ betune talkin’ I made time for to hit
the nose av him so that he’d be no Venus to any woman for a week to
come. ’Twas a fine big nose, and well it paid for a little groomin’.
Afther that I was so well pleased wid my handicraftfulness that I niver
raised fist on the gyard that came to take me to Clink. A child might
ha’ led me along, for I knew old Kearney’s nose was ruined. That summer
the Ould Rig’ment did not use their own Clink, bekase the cholera
was hangin’ about there like mildew on wet boots, an’ ’twas murdher
to confine in ut. We borrowed the Clink that belonged to the Holy
Christians (the rig’ment that has never seen service yet), and that lay
a matther av a mile away, acrost two p’rade-grounds an’ the main road,
an’ all the ladies av Cawnpore goin’ out for their afternoon dhrive. So
I moved in the best av society, my shadow dancin’ along forninst me,
an’ the gyard as solemn as putty, the bracelets on my wrists, an’ my
heart full contint wid the notion av Kearney’s pro--pro--probosculum in
a shling.
‘In the middle av ut all I perceived a gunner-orf’cer in full
rig’mentals perusin’ down the road, hell-for-leather, wid his mouth
open. He fetched wan woild despairin’ look on the dog-kyarts an’ the
polite society av Cawnpore, an’ thin he dived like a rabbut into a
dhrain by the side av the road.
‘“Bhoys,” sez I, “that orf’cer’s dhrunk. ’Tis scand’lus. Let’s take him
to Clink too.”
‘The corp’ril of the gyard made a jump for me, unlocked my stringers,
an’ he sez: “If it comes to runnin’, run for your life. If it doesn’t,
I’ll trust your honour. Anyways,” sez he, “come to Clink whin you can.”
‘Then I behild him runnin’ wan way, stuffin’ the bracelets in his
pocket, they bein’ Gov’ment property, and the gyard runnin’ another,
an’ all the dog-kyarts runnin’ all ways to wanst, an’ me alone lookin’
down the red bag av a mouth av an elephint forty-two feet high at the
shoulder, tin feet wide, wid tusks as long as the Ochterlony Monumint.
That was my first reconnaissance. Maybe he was not quite so contagious,
nor quite so tall, but I didn’t stop to throw out pickets. Mother av
Hiven, how I ran down the road! The baste began to inveshtigate the
dhrain wid the gunner-orf’cer in ut; an’ that was the makin’ av me. I
tripped over wan of the rifles that my gyard had discarded (onsoldierly
blackguards they was!), an’ whin I got up I was facin’ t’other way
about an’ the elephint was huntin’ for the gunner-orf’cer. I can see
his big fat back yet. Excipt that he didn’t dig, he car’ied on for all
the world like little Vixen here at a rat-hole. He put his head down
(by my sowl he nearly stood on ut!) to shquint down the dhrain; thin
he’d grunt, and run round to the other ind in case the orf’cer was gone
out by the backdoor; an’ he’d shtuff his trunk down the flue an’ get
ut filled wid mud, an’ blow ut out, an’ grunt, an’ swear! My troth,
he swore all hiven down upon that orf’cer; an’ what a commissariat
elephint had to do wid a gunner-orf’cer passed me. Me havin’ nowhere to
go except to Clink, I stud in the road wid the rifle, a Snider an’ no
amm’nition, philosophisin’ upon the rear ind av the animal. All round
me, miles and miles, there was howlin’ desolation, for ivry human sowl
wid two legs, or four for the matther av that, was ambuscadin’, an’
this ould rapparee stud on his head tuggin’ an’ gruntin’ above the
dhrain, his tail stickin’ up to the sky, an’ he thryin’ to thrumpet
through three feet av road-sweepin’s up his thrunk. Begad, ’twas wickud
to behold!
‘Subsequint he caught sight av me standin’ alone in the wide, wide
world lanin’ on the rifle. That dishcomposed him, bekase he thought I
was the gunner-orf’cer got out unbeknownst. He looked betune his feet
at the dhrain, an’ he looked at me, an’ I sez to myself: “Terence, my
son, you’ve been watchin’ this Noah’s ark too long. Run for your life!”
Dear knows I wanted to tell him I was only a poor privit on my way to
Clink, an’ no orf’cer at all, at all; but he put his ears forward av
his thick head, an’ I rethreated down the road grippin’ the rifle, my
back as cowld as a tombstone, an’ the slack av my trousies, where I
made sure he’d take hould, crawlin’ wid,--wid invidjus apprehension.
‘I might ha’ run till I dhropped, bekase I was betune the two straight
lines av the road, an’ a man, or a thousand men for the matther av
that, are the like av sheep in keepin’ betune right an’ left marks.’
‘Same as canaries,’ said Ortheris from the darkness. ‘Draw a line on a
bloomin’ little board, put their bloomin’ little beakses there; stay so
for hever an’ hever, amen, they will. ’Seed a ’ole reg’ment, I ’ave,
walk crabways along the edge of a two-foot water-cut ’stid o’ thinkin’
to cross it. Men _is_ sheep--bloomin’ sheep. Go on.’
‘But I saw his shadow wid the tail av my eye,’ continued the man of
experiences, ‘an’ “Wheel,” I sez, “Terence, wheel!” an’ I wheeled.
’Tis truth that I cud hear the shparks flyin’ from my heels; an’ I
shpun into the nearest compound, fetched wan jump from the gate to
the verandah av the house, an’ fell over a tribe of naygurs wid a
half-caste boy at a desk, all manufacturin’ harness. ’Twas Antonio’s
Carriage Emporium at Cawnpore. You know ut, sorr?
‘Ould Grambags must ha’ wheeled abreast wid me, for his trunk came
lickin’ into the verandah like a belt in a barrick-room row, before I
was in the shop. The naygurs an’ the half-caste boy howled an’ wint out
at the backdoor, an’ I stud lone as Lot’s wife among the harness. A
powerful thirsty thing is harness, by reason av the smell to ut.
‘I wint into the backroom, nobody bein’ there to invite, an’ I found
a bottle av whisky and a goglet av wather. The first an’ the second
dhrink I never noticed bein’ dhry, but the fourth an’ the fifth tuk
good hould av me an’ I begun to think scornful av elephints. “Take the
upper ground in manœ’vrin’, Terence,” I sez; “an’ you’ll be a gen’ral
yet,” sez I. An’ wid that I wint up to the flat mud roof av the house
an’ looked over the edge av the parapit, threadin’ delicate. Ould
Barrel-belly was in the compound, walkin’ to an’ fro, pluckin’ a piece
av grass here an’ a weed there, for all the world like our colonel that
is now whin his wife’s given him a talkin’ down an’ he’s prom’nadin’ to
ease his timper. His back was to me, an’ by the same token I hiccupped.
He checked in his walk, wan ear forward like a deaf ould lady wid an
ear-thrumpet, an’ his thrunk hild out in a kind av fore-reaching hook.
Thin he wagged his ear sayin’, “Do my sinses deceive me?” as plain as
print, an’ he recomminst promenadin’. You know Antonio’s compound?
’Twas as full thin as ’tis now av new kyarts and ould kyarts, an’
second-hand kyarts an’ kyarts for hire,--landos, an’ b’rooshes, an’
brooms, an’ wag’nettes av ivry description. Thin I hiccupped again,
an’ he began to study the ground beneath him, his tail whistlin’ wid
emotion. Thin he lapped his thrunk round the shaft av a wag’nette an’
dhrew it out circumspectuous an’ thoughtful. “He’s not there,” he sez,
fumblin’ in the cushions wid his thrunk. Thin I hiccupped again, an’
wid that he lost his patience good an’ all, same as this wan in the
lines here.’
The gun-elephant was breaking into peal after peal of indignant
trumpetings, to the disgust of the other animals who had finished their
food and wished to drowse. Between the outcries we could hear him
picking restlessly at his ankle ring.
‘As I was sayin’,’ Mulvaney went on, ‘he behaved dishgraceful. He let
out wid his fore-fut like a steam-hammer, bein’ convinced that I was
in ambuscade adjacent; an’ that wag’nette ran back among the other
carriages like a field-gun in charge. Thin he hauled ut out again
an’ shuk ut, an’ by nature it came all to little pieces. Afther that
he went sheer damn, slam, dancin’, lunatic, double-shuffle demented
wid the whole of Antonio’s shtock for the season. He kicked, an’ he
straddled, and he stamped, an’ he pounded all at wanst, his big bald
head bobbin’ up an’ down, solemn as a rigadoon. He tuk a new shiny
broom an’ kicked ut on wan corner, an’ ut opened out like a blossomin’
lily; an’ he shtuck wan fool-foot through the flure av ut an’ a wheel
was shpinnin’ on his tusk. At that he got scared, an’ by this an’ that
he fair sat down plump among the carriages, an’ they pricked ’im wid
splinters till he was a boundin’ pincushin. In the middle av the mess,
whin the kyarts was climbin’ wan on top av the other, an’ rickochettin’
off the mud walls, an’ showin’ their agility, wid him tearin’ their
wheels off, I heard the sound av distrestful wailin’ on the housetops,
an’ the whole Antonio firm an’ fam’ly was cursin’ me an’ him from the
roof next door; me bekase I’d taken refuge wid them, and he bekase he
was playin’ shtep-dances wid the carriages av the aristocracy.
‘“Divart his attention,” sez Antonio, dancin’ on the roof in his big
white waistcoat. “Divart his attention,” he sez, “or I’ll prosecute
you.” An’ the whole fam’ly shouts, “Hit him a kick, mister soldier.”
‘“He’s divartin’ himself,” I sez, for it was just the worth av a man’s
life to go down into the compound. But by way av makin’ show I threw
the whisky-bottle (’twas not full whin I came there) at him. He shpun
round from what was left av the last kyart, an’ shtuck his head into
the verandah not three feet below me. Maybe ’twas the temptin’ness av
his back or the whisky. Anyways, the next thing I knew was me, wid my
hands full av mud an’ mortar, all fours on his back, an’ the Snider
just slidin’ off the slope av his head. I grabbed that an’ scuffled
on his neck, dhruv my knees undher his big flappin’ ears, an’ we wint
to glory out av that compound wid a shqueal that crawled up my back
an’ down my belly. Thin I remimbered the Snider, an’ I grup ut by
the muzzle an’ hit him on the head. ’Twas most forlorn--like tappin’
the deck av a throopship wid a cane to stop the engines whin you’re
sea-sick. But I parsevered till I sweated, an’ at last from takin’ no
notice at all he began to grunt. I hit wid the full strength that was
in me in those days, an’ it might ha’ discommoded him. We came back
to the p’rade-groun’ forty miles an hour, trumpetin’ vainglorious. I
never stopped hammerin’ him for a minut’; ’twas by way av divartin’ him
from runnin’ undher the trees an’ scrapin’ me off like a poultice. The
p’rade-groun’ an’ the road was all empty, but the throops was on the
roofs av the barricks, an’ betune Ould Thrajectory’s gruntin’ an’ mine
(for I was winded wid my stone-breakin’), I heard them clappin’ an’
cheerin’. He was growin’ more confused an’ tuk to runnin’ in circles.
‘“Begad,” sez I to mysilf, “there’s dacincy in all things, Terence.
’Tis like you’ve shplit his head, and whin you come out av Clink you’ll
be put under stoppages for killin’ a Gov’ment elephint.” At that I
caressed him.’
‘’Ow the devil did you do that? Might as well pat a barrick,’ said
Ortheris.
‘Thried all manner av endearin’ epitaphs, but bein’ more than a little
shuk up I disremimbered what the divil would answer to. So, “Good dog,”
I sez; “Pretty puss,” sez I; “Whoa mare,” I sez; an’ at that I fetched
him a shtroke av the butt for to conciliate him, an’ he stud still
among the barricks.
‘“Will no one take me off the top av this murderin’ volcano?” I sez at
the top av my shout; an’ I heard a man yellin’, “Hould on, faith an’
patience, the other elephints are comin’.” “Mother av Glory,” I sez,
“will I rough-ride the whole stud? Come an’ take me down, ye cowards!”
‘Thin a brace av fat she-elephints wid mahouts an’ a commissariat
sergint came shuffling round the corner av the barricks; an’ the
mahouts was abusin’ ould Potiphar’s mother an’ blood-kin.
‘“Obsarve my reinforcemints,” I sez. “The’re goin’ to take you to
Clink, my son;” an’ the child av calamity put his ears forward an’
swung head on to those females. The pluck av him, afther my oratorio on
his brain-pan, wint to the heart av me. “I’m in dishgrace mesilf,” I
sez, “but I’ll do what I can for ye. Will ye go to Clink like a man, or
fight like a fool whin there’s no chanst?” Wid that I fetched him wan
last lick on the head, an’ he fetched a tremenjus groan an’ dhropped
his thrunk. “Think,” sez I to him, an’ “Halt!” I sez to the mahouts.
They was anxious so to do. I could feel the ould reprobit meditating
undher me. At last he put his thrunk straight out an’ gave a most
melancholious toot (the like av a sigh wid an elephint); an’ by that I
knew the white flag was up an’ the rest was no more than considherin’
his feelin’s.
‘“He’s done,” I sez. “Kape open ordher left an’ right alongside. We’ll
go to Clink quiet.”
‘Sez the commissariat sergeant to me from his elephant, “Are you a man
or a mericle?” sez he.
‘“I’m betwixt an’ betune,” I sez, thryin’ to set up stiff-back. “An’
what,” sez I, “may ha’ set this animal off in this opprobrious shtyle?”
I sez, the gun-butt light an’ easy on my hip an’ my left hand dhropped,
such as throopers behave. We was bowlin’ on to the elephint-lines under
escort all this time.
‘“I was not in the lines whin the throuble began,” sez the sergeant.
“They tuk him off carryin’ tents an’ such like, an’ put him to the
gun-team. I knew he would not like ut, but by token it fair tore his
heart out.”
‘“Faith, wan man’s meat is another’s poison,” I sez. “’Twas bein’ put
on to carry tents that was the ruin av me.” An’ my heart warrumed to
Ould Double Ends bekase he had been put upon.
‘“We’ll close on him here,” sez the sergeant, whin we got to the
elephint-lines. All the mahouts an’ their childher was round the
pickets cursin’ my poney from a mile to hear. “You skip off on to my
elephint’s back,” he sez. “There’ll be throuble.”
‘“Sind that howlin’ crowd away,” I sez, “or he’ll thrample the life
out av thim.” I cud feel his ears beginnin’ to twitch. “An’ do you an’
your immoril she-elephints go well clear away. I will get down here.
He’s an Irishman,” I sez, “for all his long Jew’s nose, an’ he shall be
threated like an Irishman.”
‘“Are ye tired av life?” sez the sergeant.
‘“Divil a bit,” I sez; “but wan av us has to win, an’ I’m av opinion
’tis me. Get back,” I sez.
‘The two elephints wint off, an’ Smith O’Brine came to a halt dead
above his own pickuts. “Down,” sez I, whackin’ him on the head, an’
down he wint, shouldher over shouldher like a hill-side slippin’ afther
rain. “Now,” sez I, slidin down his nose an’ runnin’ to the front av
him, “you will see the man that’s betther than you.”
‘His big head was down betune his big forefeet, an’ they was twisted
in sideways like a kitten’s. He looked the picture av innocince an’
forlornsomeness, an’ by this an’ that his big hairy undherlip was
thremblin’, an’ he winked his eyes together to kape from cryin’. “For
the love av God,” I sez, clean forgettin’ he was a dumb baste; “don’t
take ut to heart so! Aisy, be aisy,” I sez; an’ wid that I rubbed his
cheek an’ betune his eyes an’ the top av his thrunk, talkin’ all the
time. “Now,” sez I, “I’ll make you comfortable for the night. Send wan
or two childher here,” I sez to the sergeant who was watchin’ for to
see me killed. “He’ll rouse at the sight av a man.”’
‘You got bloomin’ clever all of a sudden,’ said Ortheris. ‘’Ow did you
come to know ’is funny little ways that soon?’
‘Bekase,’ said Terence with emphasis, ‘bekase I had conquered the
beggar, my son.’
‘Ho!’ said Ortheris between doubt and derision. ‘G’on.’
‘His mahout’s child an’ wan or two other line-babies came runnin’ up,
not bein’ afraid av anything, an’ some got wather, an’ I washed the
top av his poor sore head (begad, I had done him to a turn!), an’
some picked the pieces av carts out av his hide, an’ we scraped him,
an’ handled him all over, an’ we put a thunderin’ big poultice av
neem-leaves (the same that ye stick on a pony’s gall) on his head, an’
it looked like a smokin’-cap, an’ we put a pile av young sugar-cane
forninst him, an’ he began to pick at ut. “Now,” sez I, settin’ down
on his fore-foot, “we’ll have a dhrink, an’ let bygones be.” I sent a
naygur-child for a quart av arrack, an’ the sergeant’s wife she sint me
out four fingers av whisky, an’ whin the liquor came I cud see by the
twinkle in Ould Typhoon’s eye that he was no more a stranger to ut than
me,--worse luck, than me! So he tuk his quart like a Christian, an’
_thin_ I put his shackles on, chained him fore an’ aft to the pickets,
an’ gave him my blessin’, an wint back to barricks.’
‘And after?’ I said in the pause.
‘Ye can guess,’ said Mulvaney. ‘There was confusion, an’ the colonel
gave me ten rupees, an’ the adj’tant gave me five, an’ my comp’ny
captain gave me five, an’ the men carried me round the barricks
shoutin’.’
‘Did you go to Clink?’ said Ortheris.
‘I niver heard a word more about the misundherstandin’ wid Kearney’s
beak, if that’s what you mane; but sev’ril av the bhoys was tuk off
sudden to the Holy Christians’ Hotel that night. Small blame to
thim,--they had twenty rupees in dhrinks. I wint to lie down an’ sleep
ut off, for I was as done an’ double done as him there in the lines.
’Tis no small thing to go ride elephants.
‘Subsequint, me an’ the Venerable Father av Sin became mighty friendly.
I wud go down to the lines, whin I was in dishgrace, an’ spend an
afthernoon collogin’ wid him; he chewin’ wan stick av sugar-cane an’
me another, as thick as thieves. He’d take all I had out av my pockets
an’ put ut back again, an’ now an’ thin I’d bring him beer for his
dijistin’, an’ I’d give him advice about bein’ well behaved an’ keepin’
off the books. Afther that he wint the way av the Army, an’ that’s
bein’ thransferred as soon as you’ve made a good friend.’
‘So you never saw him again?’ I demanded.
‘Do you belave the first half av the affair?’ said Terence.
‘I’ll wait till Learoyd comes,’ I said evasively. Except when he was
carefully tutored by the other two and the immediate money-benefit
explained, the Yorkshireman did not tell lies; and Terence, I knew, had
a profligate imagination.
‘There’s another part still,’ said Mulvaney. ‘Ortheris was in that.’
‘Then I’ll believe it all,’ I answered, not from any special belief in
Ortheris’s word, but from desire to learn the rest. Ortheris stole a
pup from me when our acquaintance was new, and with the little beast
stifling under his overcoat, denied not only the theft, but that he
ever was interested in dogs.
‘That was at the beginnin’ av the Afghan business,’ said Mulvaney;
‘years afther the men that had seen me do the thrick was dead or
gone home. I came not to speak av ut at the last bekase,--bekase I
do _not_ care to knock the face av ivry man that calls me a liar. At
the very beginnin’ av the marchin’ I wint sick like a fool. I had a
boot-gall, but I was all for keepin’ up wid the rig’mint and such
like foolishness. So I finished up wid a hole in my heel that you cud
ha’ dhruv a tent-peg into. Faith, how often have I preached that to
recruities since, for a warnin’ to thim to look afther their feet! Our
docthor, who knew our business as well as his own, he sez to me, in the
middle av the Tangi Pass it was: “That’s sheer damned carelessness,”
sez he. “How often have I tould you that a marchin’ man is no stronger
than his feet,--his feet,--his feet!” he sez. “Now to hospital you
go,” he sez, “for three weeks, an expense to your Quane an’ a nuisince
to your counthry. Next time,” sez he, “perhaps you’ll put some av the
whisky you pour down your throat, an’ some av the tallow you put into
your hair, into your socks,” sez he. Faith he was a just man. So soon
as we come to the head av the Tangi I wint to hospital, hoppin’ on wan
fut, woild wid disappointment. ’Twas a field-hospital (all flies an’
native apothecaries an’ liniment) dhropped, in a way av speakin’, close
by the head av the Tangi. The hospital guard was ravin’ mad wid us
sick for keepin’ thim there, an’ we was ravin’ mad at bein’ kept; an’
through the Tangi, day an’ night an’ night an’ day, the fut an’ horse
an’ guns an’ commissariat an’ tents an’ followers av the brigades was
pourin’ like a coffee-mill. The doolies came dancin’ through, scores
an’ scores av thim, an’ they’d turn up the hill to hospital wid their
sick, an’ I lay in bed nursin’ my heel, an’ hearin’ the men bein’ tuk
out. I remimber wan night (the time I was tuk wid fever) a man came
rowlin’ through the tents an’, “Is there any room to die here?” he sez;
“there’s none wid the columns”; an’ at that he dhropped dead acrost
a cot, an’ thin the man in ut began to complain against dyin’ all
alone in the dust undher dead men. Thin I must ha’ turned mad wid the
fever, an’ for a week I was prayin’ the saints to stop the noise av the
columns movin’ through the Tangi. Gun-wheels it was that wore my head
thin. Ye know how ’tis wid fever?’
We nodded; there was no need to explain.
‘Gun-wheels an’ feet an’ people shoutin’, but mostly gun-wheels. ’Twas
neither night nor day to me for a week. In the mornin’ they’d rowl up
the tent-flies, an’ we sick cud look at the Pass an’ considher what was
comin’ next. Horse, fut, or guns, they’d be sure to dhrop wan or two
sick wid us an’ we’d get news. Wan mornin’, whin the fever hild off of
me, I was watchin’ the Tangi, an’ ’twas just like the picture on the
backside av the Afghan medal,--men an’ elephints an’ guns comin’ wan at
a time crawlin’ out of a dhrain.’
‘It were a dhrain,’ said Ortheris with feeling. ‘I’ve fell out an’ been
sick in the Tangi twice; an’ wot turns my innards ain’t no bloomin’
vi’lets neither.’
‘The Pass give a twist at the ind, so everything shot out suddint an’
they’d built a throop-bridge (mud an’ dead mules) over a nullah at the
head av ut. I lay an’ counted the elephints (gun-elephints) thryin’
the bridge wid their thrunks an’ rolling out sagacious. The fifth
elephint’s head came round the corner, an’ he threw up his thrunk, an’
he fetched a toot, an’ there he shtuck at the head of the Tangi like a
cork in a bottle. “Faith,” thinks I to mysilf, “he will not thrust the
bridge; there will be throuble.”’
‘Trouble! My Gawd!’ said Ortheris. ‘Terence, _I_ was be’ind that
blooming ’uttee up to my stock in dust. Trouble!’
‘Tell on then, little man; I only saw the hospital ind av ut.’ Mulvaney
knocked the ashes out of his pipe, as Ortheris heaved the dogs aside
and went on.
‘We was escort to them guns, three comp’nies of us,’ he said. ‘Dewcy
was our major, an’ our orders was to roll up anything we come across in
the Tangi an’ shove it out t’other end. Sort o’ pop-gun picnic, see?
We’d rolled up a lot o’ lazy beggars o’ native followers, an’ some
commissariat supplies that was bivoo-whackin’ for ever seemin’ly, an’
all the sweepin’s of ’arf a dozen things what ought to ’ave bin at the
front weeks ago, an’ Dewcy, he sez to us: “You’re most ’eart-breakin’
sweeps,” ’e sez. “For ’eving’s sake,” sez ’e, “do a little sweepin’
now.” So we swep’,--s’welp me, ’ow we did sweep ’em along! There was
a full reg’ment be’ind us; most anxious to get on they was; an’ they
kep’ on sendin’ to us with the colonel’s compliments, an’ what in ’ell
was we stoppin’ the way for, please? Oh, they was partic’lar polite! So
was Dewcy! ’E sent ’em back wot-for, an’ ’e give us wot-for, an’ we
give the guns wot-for, an’ they give the commissariat wot-for, an’ the
commissariat give first-class extry wot-for to the native followers,
an’ on we’d go again till we was stuck, an’ the ’ole Pass ’ud be
swimmin’ Allelujah for a mile an’ a ’arf. We ’adn’t no tempers, nor
no seats to our trousies, an’ our coats an’ our rifles was chucked in
the carts, so as we might ha’ been cut up any minute, an’ we was doin’
drover-work. That was wot it was; drovin’ on the Islin’ton road!