The ammunition columns on either flank provide us with plenty of
amusement. They seem to live by stealing each other's mules. My
line-guards tell me that stealthy figures leading shadowy donkeys are
crossing to and fro all night long through my lines. The respective
C.O.'s, an Australian and an Irishman, drop in on us from time to time
and warn us against each other. I remain strictly neutral, and so far
they have respected my neutrality. I have taken steps toward this end
by surrounding my horses with barbed wire and spring guns, tying bells
on them and doubling the guard.
Monk, the Australian, dropped in on us two or three days ago. "That
darn Sinn Feiner is the limit," said he; "lifted my best moke off me
last night while I was up at the batteries. He'd pinch BALAAM'S ass."
We murmured condolences, but Monk waived them aside. "Oh, it's quite
all right. I wasn't born yesterday, or the day before for that matter.
I'll make that merry Fenian weep tears of blood before I've finished.
Just you watch."
O'Dwyer, the merry Fenian, called next day.
"Give us a dhrink, brother-officers," said he, "I'm wake wid
laughter."
We asked what had happened.
"Ye know that herrin'-gutted bush-ranger over yonder? He'd stale the
milk out of your tea, he would, be the same token. Well, last night he
got vicious and took a crack at my lines. I had rayson to suspect he'd
be afther tryin' somethin' on, so I laid for him. I planted a certain
mule where he _could_ stale it an' guarded the rest four deep. Begob,
will ye believe me, but he fell into the thrap head-first--the poor
simple divil."
"But he got your mule," said Albert Edward, perplexed.
"Shure an' he did, you bet he did--he got old Lyddite."
Albert Edward and I were still puzzled.
"Very high explosive--hence name," O'Dwyer explained.
"Dear hearrts," he went on, "he's got my stunt mule, my family
assassin! That long-ear has twenty-three casualties to his credit,
including a Brigadier. I have to twitch him to harness him, side-line
him to groom him, throw him to clip him, and dhrug him to get him
shod. Perceive the jest now? Esteemed comrade Monk is afther pinchin'
an infallable packet o' sudden death, an' he don't know it--yet."
"What's the next move?" I inquired.
"I'm going to lave him there. Mind you I don't want to lose the old
moke altogether, because, to tell the truth, I'm a biteen fond of him
now that I know his thricks, but I figure Mr. Monk will be a severely
cured character inside a week, an' return the beastie himself with
tears an' apologies on vellum so long."
I met O'Dwyer again two days later on the mud track. He reined up his
cob and begged a cigarette.
"Been havin' the fun o' the worrld down at the dressin'-station
watchin' Monk's casualties rollin' in," said he. "Terrible spectacle,
'nough to make a sthrong man weep. Mutual friend Monk lookin' 'bout as
genial as a wet hen. This is goin' to be a wondherful lesson to him.
See you later." He nudged his plump cob and ambled off, whistling
merrily.
But it was Monk we saw later. He wormed his long corpse into "_Mon
Repos_" and sat on Albert Edward's bed laughing like a tickled hyena.
"Funniest thing on earth," he spluttered. "A mule strayed into my
lines t'other night and refused to leave. It was a rotten beast, a
holy terror; it could kick a fly off its ears and bite a man in half.
I don't mind admitting it played battledore and what's-'is-name with
my organisation for a day or two, but out of respect for O'Dwyer,
blackguard though he is, I ..."
"Oh, so it was O'Dwyer's mule?" Albert Edward cut in innocently.
Monk nodded hastily. "Yes, so it turned out. Well, out of respect
for O'Dwyer I looked after it as far as it would allow me, naturally
expecting he'd come over and claim it--but he didn't. On the fourth
day, after it had made a light breakfast off a bombardier's ear and
kicked a gap in a farrier, I got absolutely fed up, turned the damn
cannibal loose and gave it a cut with a whip for godspeed. It made
off due east, cavorting and snorting until it reached the tank-track;
there it stopped and picked a bit of grass. Presently along comes a
tank, proceeding to the fray, and gives the mule a poke in the rear.
The mule lashes out, catching the tank in the chest, and then goes on
with his grazing without looking round, leaving the tank for dead, as
by all human standards it should have been, of course. But instead of
being dead the box of tricks ups and gives the donk another butt and
moves on. That roused the mule properly. He closed his eyes and laid
into the tank for dear life; you could hear it clanging a mile away.
"After delivering two dozen of the best, the moke turned round to
sniff the cold corpse, but the corpse was still warm and smiling. Then
the mule went mad and set about the tank in earnest. He jabbed it in
the eye, upper-cut it on the point, hooked it behind the ear, banged
its slats, planted his left on the mark and his right on the solar
plexus, but still the tank sat up and took nourishment.
"Then the donkey let a roar out of him and closed with it; tried
the half-Nelson, the back heel, the scissors, the roll, and the
flying-mare; tried Westmoreland and Cumberland style, collar and
elbow, Cornish, Græco-Roman, scratch-as-scratch-can and Ju-jitsu.
Nothing doing. Then as a last despairing effort he tried to charge
it over on its back and rip the hide off it with his teeth.
"But the old tank gave a 'good-by ee' cough of its exhaust and rumbled
off as if nothing had happened, nothing at all. I have never seen
such a look of surprise on any living creature's face as was on that
donk's. He sank down on his tail, gave a hissing gasp and rolled over
stone dead. Broken heart."
"Is that the end?" Albert Edward inquired.
"It is," said Monk; "and if you go outside and look half-right you'll
see the bereaved Mr. O'Dwyer, all got up in sack-cloth, cinders
and crêpe rosettes, mooning over the deceased like a dingo on an
ash-heap." PATLANDER.
* * * * *
[Illustration: _Aunt Maria_. "DO YOU KNOW I ONCE ACTUALLY SAW THE
KAISER RIDING THROUGH THE STREETS OF LONDON AS BOLD AS BRASS. IF I'D
KNOWN THEN WHAT I KNOW NOW I'D HAVE TOLD A POLICEMAN."]
* * * * *
"FOR THE DURATION ..."
"The forenoon service in the Parish Church will be at 11 o'clock
instead of 11.15 on Sunday first, and will continue till further
orders."--_Scottish Paper_.
* * * * *