BLACK JACK

To the wake av Tim O'Hara

Came company,

All St. Patrick's Alley

Was there to see.

_Robert Buchanan_.

As the Three Musketeers share their silver, tobacco, and liquor

together, as they protect each other in barracks or camp, and as they

rejoice together over the joy of one, so do they divide their sorrows.

When Ortheris's irrepressible tongue has brought him into cells for a

season, or Learoyd has run amok through his kit and accoutrements,

or Mulvaney has indulged in strong waters, and under their influence

reproved his Commanding Officer, you can see the trouble in the faces

of the untouched two. And the rest of the regiment know that comment or

jest is unsafe. Generally the three avoid Orderly Room and the Corner

Shop that follows, leaving both to the young bloods who have not sown

their wild oats; but there are occasions--

For instance, Ortheris was sitting on the drawbridge of the main gate

of Fort Amara, with his hands in his pockets and his pipe, bowl down, in

his mouth. Learoyd was lying at full length on the turf of the glacis,

kicking his heels in the air, and I came round the corner and asked for

Mulvaney.

Ortheris spat into the ditch and shook his head. 'No good seein' 'im

now,' said Ortheris; ''e's a bloomin' camel. Listen.'

I heard on the flags of the veranda opposite to the cells, which are

close to the Guard-Room, a measured step that I could have identified

in the tramp of an army. There were twenty paces crescendo, a pause, and

then twenty _diminuendo_.

'That's 'im,' said Ortheris; 'my Gawd, that's 'im! All for a bloomin'

button you could see your face in an' a bit o' lip that a bloomin'

Harkangel would 'a' guv back.'

Mulvaney was doing pack-drill--was compelled, that is to say, to walk up

and down for certain hours in full marching order, with rifle, bayonet,

ammunition, knapsack, and overcoat. And his offence was being dirty on

parade! I nearly fell into the Fort Ditch with astonishment and wrath,

for Mulvaney is the smartest man that ever mounted guard, and would as

soon think of turning out uncleanly as of dispensing with his trousers.

'Who was the Sergeant that checked him?' I asked.

'Mullins, o' course,' said Ortheris. 'There ain't no other man would

whip 'im on the peg so. But Mullins ain't a man.' E's a dirty little

pigscraper, that's wot 'e is.'

'What did Mulvaney say? He's not the make of man to take that quietly.'

'Said! Bin better for 'im if 'e'd shut 'is mouth. Lord, ow we laughed!

“Sargint,” 'e sez, “ye say I'm dirty. Well,” sez 'e, “when your wife

lets you blow your own nose for yourself, perhaps you'll know wot dirt

is. You're himperfectly eddicated, Sargint,” sez 'e, an' then we fell

in. But after p'rade, 'e was up an' Mullins was swearin' 'imself black

in the face at Ord'ly Room that Mulvaney 'ad called 'im a swine an' Lord

knows wot all. You know Mullins. 'E'll 'ave 'is 'ead broke in one o'

these days. 'E's too big a bloomin' liar for ord'nary consumption.

“Three hours' can an' kit,” sez the Colonel; “not for bein' dirty on

p'rade, but for 'avin' said somethin' to Mullins, tho' I do not believe,”

sez 'e, “you said wot 'e said you said.” An' Mulvaney fell away sayin'

nothin'. You know 'e never speaks to the Colonel for fear o' gettin'

'imself fresh copped.'

Mullins, a very young and very much married Sergeant, whose manners were

partly the result of innate depravity and partly of imperfectly digested

Board School, came over the bridge, and most rudely asked Ortheris what

he was doing.

'Me?' said Ortheris. 'Ow! I'm waiting for my C'mission. 'Seed it comin'

along yit?'

Mullins turned purple and passed on. There was the sound of a gentle

chuckle from the glacis where Learoyd lay.

''E expects to get 'is C'mission some day,' explained Ortheris;' Gawd

'elp the Mess that 'ave to put their 'ands into the same kiddy as 'im!

Wot time d'you make it, Sir? Fower! Mulvaney'll be out in 'arf an hour.

You don't want to buy a dorg, Sir, do you? A pup you can trust--'arf

Rampore by the Colonel's grey-'ound.'

'Ortheris,' I answered sternly, for I knew what was in his mind, 'do you

mean to say that--'

'I didn't mean to arx money o' you, any'ow,' said Ortheris; 'I'd 'a'

sold you the dorg good an' cheap, but--but--I know Mulvaney'll want

somethin' after we've walked 'im orf, an' I ain't got nothin', nor 'e

'asn't neither. I'd sooner sell you the dorg, Sir. 'S trewth I would!'

A shadow fell on the drawbridge, and Ortheris began to rise into the

air, lifted by a huge hand upon his collar.

'Onything but t' braass,' said Learoyd quietly, as he held the Londoner

over the ditch. 'Onything but t' braass, Orth'ris, ma son! Ah've got one

rupee eight annas of ma own.' He showed two coins, and replaced Ortheris

on the drawbridge rail.

'Very good,' I said;' where are you going to?'

'Goin' to walk 'im orf wen 'e comes out--two miles or three or fower,'

said Ortheris.

The footsteps within ceased. I heard the dull thud of a knapsack falling

on a bedstead, followed by the rattle of arms. Ten minutes later,

Mulvaney, faultlessly dressed, his lips tight and his face as black as

a thunderstorm, stalked into the sunshine on the drawbridge. Learoyd

and Ortheris sprang from my side and closed in upon him, both leaning

towards as horses lean upon the pole. In an instant they had disappeared

down the sunken road to the cantonments, and I was left alone. Mulvaney

had not seen fit to recognise me; so I knew that his trouble must be

heavy upon him.

I climbed one of the bastions and watched the figures of the Three

Musketeers grow smaller and smaller across the plain. They were walking

as fast as they could put foot to the ground, and their heads were

bowed. They fetched a great compass round the parade-ground, skirted the

Cavalry lines, and vanished in the belt of trees that fringes the low

land by the river.

I followed slowly, and sighted them--dusty, sweating, but still keeping

up their long, swinging tramp--on the river bank. They crashed through

the Forest Reserve, headed towards the Bridge of Boats, and presently

established themselves on the bow of one of the pontoons. I rode

cautiously till I saw three puffs of white smoke rise and die out in

the clear evening air, and knew that peace had come again. At the

bridge-head they waved me forward with gestures of welcome.

'Tie up your 'orse,' shouted Ortheris, 'an' come on, Sir. We're all

goin' 'home in this 'ere bloomin' boat.

From the bridge-head to the Forest Officer's bungalow is but a step.

The mess-man was there, and would see that a man held my horse. Did the

Sahib require aught else--a peg, or beer? Ritchie Sahib had left half a

dozen bottles of the latter, but since the Sahib was a friend of Ritchie

Sahib, and he, the mess-man, was a poor man--

I gave my order quietly, and returned to the bridge. Mulvaney had taken

off his boots, and was dabbling his toes in the water; Learoyd was lying

on his back on the pontoon; and Ortheris was pretending to row with a

big bamboo.

'I'm an ould fool,' said Mulvaney, reflectively, 'dhrag-gin' you two out

here bekaze I was undher the Black Dog--sulkin' like a child. Me that

was soldierin' when Mullins, an' be damned to him, was shquealin' on a

counterpin for five shillin' a week--an' that not paid! Bhoys, I've took

you five miles out av natural pevarsity. Phew!'

'Wot's the odds so long as you're 'appy?' said Ortheris, applying

himself afresh to the bamboo. 'As well 'ere as anywhere else.'

Learoyd held up a rupee and an eight-anna bit, and shook his head

sorrowfully. 'Five mile from t' Canteen, all along o' Mulvaney's

blaasted pride.'

'I know ut,' said Mulvaney penitently. 'Why will ye come wid me? An' yet

I wud be mortial sorry if ye did not--any time--though I am ould enough

to know betther. But I will do penance. I will take a dhrink av wather.'

Ortheris squeaked shrilly. The butler of the Forest bungalow was

standing near the railings with a basket, uncertain how to clamber down

to the pontoon. 'Might 'a' know'd you'd 'a' got liquor out o' bloomin'

desert, Sir,' said Ortheris, gracefully, to me. Then to the mess-man:

'Easy with them there bottles. They're worth their weight in gold. Jock,

ye long-armed beggar, get out o' that an' hike 'em down.'

Learoyd had the basket on the pontoon in an instant, and the Three

Musketeers gathered round it with dry lips. They drank my health in due

and ancient form, and thereafter tobacco tasted sweeter than ever. They

absorbed all the beer, and disposed themselves in picturesque attitudes

to admire the setting sun--no man speaking for a while.

Mulvaney's head dropped upon his chest, and we thought that he was

asleep.

'What on earth did you come so far for?' I whispered to Ortheris.

'To walk 'im orf, o' course. When 'e's been checked we allus walks 'im

orf. 'E ain't fit to be spoke to those times--nor 'e ain't fit to leave

alone neither. So we takes 'im till 'e is.'

Mulvaney raised his head, and stared straight into the sunset. 'I had my

rifle,' said he dreamily, 'an' I had my bay'nit, an' Mullins came round

the corner, an' he looked in my face an' grinned dishpiteful. “_You_

can't blow your own nose,” sez he. Now, I cannot tell fwhat Mullins's

expayrience may ha' been, but, Mother av God, he was nearer to his death

that minut' than I have iver been to mine--and that's less than the

thicknuss av a hair!'

'Yes,' said Ortheris calmly, 'you'd look fine with all your buttons took

orf, an' the Band in front o' you, walkin' roun' slow time. We're both

front-rank men, me an' Jock, when the rig'mint's in 'ollow square.

Bloomin' fine you'd look. “The Lord giveth an' the Lord taketh

awai,--Heasy with that there drop!--Blessed be the naime o' the Lord,”'

he gulped in a quaint and suggestive fashion.

'Mullins! Wot's Mullins?' said Learoyd slowly. 'Ah'd take a coomp'ny o'

Mullinses-ma hand behind me. Sitha, Mulvaney, don't be a fool.'

'_You_ were not checked for fwhat you did not do, an' made a mock av

afther. 'Twas for less than that the Tyrone wud ha' sent O'Hara to hell,

instid av lettin' him go by his own choosin', whin Rafferty shot him,'

retorted Mulvaney.

'And who stopped the Tyrone from doing it?' I asked.

'That ould fool who's sorry he didn't stick the pig Mullins.' His head

dropped again. When he raised it he shivered and put his hands on the

shoulders of his two companions.

'Ye've walked the Divil out av me, bhoys,' said he.

Ortheris shot out the red-hot dottel of his pipe on the back of the

hairy fist. 'They say 'Ell's 'otter than that,' said he, as Mulvaney

swore aloud. 'You be warned so. Look yonder!'--he pointed across the

river to a ruined temple--'Me an' you an' _'im'_--he indicated me by

a jerk of his head--'was there one day when Hi made a bloomin' show o'

myself. You an' 'im stopped me doin' such--an' Hi was on'y wishful for

to desert. You are makin' a bigger bloomin' show o' yourself now.'

'Don't mind him, Mulvaney,' I said; 'Dinah Shadd won't let you hang

yourself yet awhile, and you don't intend to try it either. Let's hear

about the Tyrone and O'Hara. Rafferty shot him for fooling with his

wife. What happened before that?'

'There's no fool like an ould fool. You know you can do anythin' wid

me whin I'm talkin'. Did I say I wud like to cut Mullins's liver out? I

deny the imputashin, for fear that Orth'ris here wud report me--Ah!

You wud tip me into the river, wud you? Sit quiet, little man. Anyways,

Mullins is not worth the trouble av an extry p'rade, an' I will trate

him wid outrajis contimpt. The Tyrone an' O'Hara! O'Hara an' the Tyrone,

begad! Ould days are hard to bring back into the mouth, but they're

always inside the head.'

Followed a long pause.

'O'Hara was a Divil. Though I saved him, for the honour av the rig'mint,

from his death that time, I say it now. He was a Divil--a long, bould,

black-haired Divil.'

'Which way?' asked Ortheris.

'Women.'

'Thin I know another.'

'Not more than in reason, if you mane me, ye warped walkin '-shtick.

I have been young, an' for why should I not have tuk what I cud? Did I

iver, whin I was Corp'ril, use the rise av my rank--wan step an' that

taken away, more's the sorrow an' the fault av me!--to prosecute a

nefarious inthrigue, as O'Hara did? Did I, whin I was Corp'ril, lay my

spite upon a man an' make his life a dog's life from day to day? Did I

lie, as O'Hara lied, till the young wans in the Tyrone turned white wid

the fear av the Judgment av God killin' thim all in a lump, as ut killed

the woman at Devizes? I did not! I have sinned my sins an' I have made

my confesshin, an' Father Victor knows the worst av me. O'Hara was tuk,

before he cud spake, on Rafferty's doorstep, an' no man knows the worst

av him. But this much I know!

'The Tyrone was recruited any fashion in the ould days. A draf from

Connemara--a draf' from Portsmouth--a draf' from Kerry, an' that was a

blazin' bad draf'--here, there and iverywhere--but the large av thim was

Oirish--Black Oirish. Now there are Oirish an' Oirish. The good are good

as the best, but the bad are wurrst than the wurrst. 'Tis this way. They

clog together in pieces as fast as thieves, an' no wan knows fwhat they

will do till wan turns informer an' the gang is bruk. But ut begins

again, a day later, meetin' in holes an' corners an' swearin' bloody

oaths an' shtickin' a man in the back an' runnin' away, an' thin waitin'

for the blood-money on the reward papers--to see if ut's worth enough.

Those are the Black Oirish, an' 'tis they that bring dishgrace upon the

name av Oireland, an' thim I wud kill--as I nearly killed wan wanst.

'But to reshume. My room--'twas before I was married--was wid twelve

av the scum av the earth--the pickin's av the gutter--mane men that wud

neither laugh nor talk nor yet get dhrunk as a man shud. They thried

some av their dog's thricks on me, but I dhrew a line round my cot, an'

the man that thransgressed ut wint into hospital for three days good.

'O'Hara had put his spite on the room--he was my Colour Sargint--an'

nothin' cud we do to plaze him. I was younger than I am now, an' I tuk

what I got in the way av dressing down and punishment-dhrill wid my

tongue in my cheek. But it was diff'rint wid the others, an' why I

cannot say, excipt that some men are borrun mane an' go to dhirty

murdher where a fist is more than enough. Afther a whoile, they changed

their chune to me an' was desp'rit frien'ly--all twelve av thim cursin'

O'Hara in chorus.

'“Eyah,” sez I, “O'Hara's a divil an' I'm not for denyin' ut, but is he

the only man in the wurruld? Let him go. He'll get tired av findin' our

kit foul an' our 'coutrements onproperly kep'.”

'“We will _not_ let him go,” sez they.

'“Thin take him,” sez I, “an' a dashed poor yield you will get for your

throuble.”

'“Is he not misconductin' himself wid Slimmy's wife?” sez another.

'“She's common to the rig'mint,” sez I. “Fwhat has made ye this

partic'lar on a suddint?”

'“Has he not put his spite on the roomful av us? Can we do anythin' that

he will not check us for?” sez another.

'“That's thrue,” sez I.

'“Will ye not help us to do aught,” sez another--“a big bould man like

you.”

'“I will break his head upon his shoulthers av he puts hand on me,” sez

I. “I will give him the lie av he says that I'm dhirty, an' I wud not

mind duckin' him in the Artillery troughs if ut was not that I'm thryin'

for my shtripes.”

'“Is that all ye will do?” sez another. “Have ye no more spunk than

that, ye blood-dhrawn calf?”

'“Blood-dhrawn I may be,” sez I, gettin' back to my cot an' makin' my

line round ut; “but ye know that the man who comes acrost this mark will

be more blood-dhrawn than me. No man gives me the name in my mouth,” I

sez. “Ondersthand, I will have no part wid you in anythin' ye do, nor

will I raise my fist to my shuperior. Is any wan comin' on?” sez I.

'They made no move, tho' I gave them full time, but stud growlin' an'

snarlin' together at wan ind av the room. I tuk up my cap and wint

out to Canteen, thinkin' no little av mesilf, and there I grew most

ondacintly dhrunk in my legs. My head was all reasonable.

'“Houligan,” I sez to a man in E Comp'ny that was by way av bein' a

frind av mine; “I'm overtuk from the belt down. Do you give me the

touch av your shoulther to presarve my formation an' march me acrost

the ground into the high grass. I'll sleep ut off there,” sez I; an'

Houligan--he's dead now, but good he was while he lasted--walked wid me,

givin' me the touch whin I wint wide, ontil we came to the high grass,

an', my faith, the sky an' the earth was fair rowlin' undher me. I made

for where the grass was thickust, an' there I slep' off my liquor wid

an easy conscience. I did not desire to come on books too frequent; my

characther havin' been shpotless for the good half av a year.

'Whin I roused, the dhrink was dyin' out in me, an' I felt as though a

she-cat had littered in my mouth. I had not learned to hould my liquor

wid comfort in thim days. 'Tis little betther I am now. “I will get

Houligan to pour a bucket over my head,” thinks I, an' I wud ha' risen,

but I heard some wan say: “Mulvaney can take the blame av ut for the

backslidin' hound he is.”

'“Oho!” sez I, an' my head rang like a guard-room gong: “fwhat is the

blame that this young man must take to oblige Tim Vulmea?” For 'twas Tim

Vulmea that shpoke.

'I turned on my belly an' crawled through the grass, a bit at a time, to

where the spache came from. There was the twelve av my room sittin' down

in a little patch, the dhry grass wavin' above their heads an' the sin

av black murdher in their hearts. I put the stuff aside to get a clear

view.

'“Fwhat's that?” sez wan man, jumpin' up.

'“A dog,” says Vulmea. “You're a nice hand to this job! As I said,

Mulvaney will take the blame--av ut comes to a pinch.”

'“'Tis harrd to swear a man's life away,” sez a young wan.

'“Thank ye for that,” thinks I. “Now, fwhat the divil are you paragins

conthrivin' against me?”

'“'Tis as easy as dhrinkin' your quart,” sez Vulmea. “At seven or

thereon, O'Hara will come acrost to the Married Quarters, goin' to call

on Slimmy's wife, the swine! Wan av us'll pass the wurrd to the room

an' we shtart the divil an' all av a shine--laughin' an' crackin' on an'

t'rowin' our boots about. Thin O'Hara will come to give us the ordher to

be quiet, the more by token bekaze the room-lamp will be knocked over

in the larkin'. He will take the straight road to the ind door where

there's the lamp in the veranda, an' that'll bring him clear against the

light as he shtands. He will not be able to look into the dhark. Wan

av us will loose off, an' a close shot ut will be, an' shame to the man

that misses. 'Twill be Mulvaney's rifle, she that is at the head av the

rack--there's no mistakin' that long-shtocked, cross-eyed bitch even in

the dhark.”

'The thief misnamed my ould firin'-piece out av jealousy--I was

pershuaded av that--an' ut made me more angry than all.

'But Vulmea goes on: “O'Hara will dhrop, an' by the time the light's

lit again, there'll be some six av us on the chest av Mulvaney, cryin'

murdher an' rape. Mulvaney's cot is near the ind door, an' the shmokin'

rifle will be lyin' undher him whin we've knocked him over. We know, an'

all the rig'mint knows, that Mulvaney has given O'Hara more lip than

any man av us. Will there be any doubt at the Coort-Martial? Wud twelve

honust sodger-bhoys swear away the life av a dear, quiet, swate-timpered

man such as is Mulvaney--wid his line av pipe-clay roun' his cot,

threatenin' us wid murdher av we overshtepped ut, as we can truthful

testify?”

'“Mary, Mother av Mercy!” thinks I to mesilf; “it is this to have an

unruly mimber an' fistes fit to use! Oh the sneakin' hounds!”

'The big dhrops ran down my face, for I was wake wid the liquor an' had

not the full av my wits about me. I laid shtill an' heard thim workin'

themselves up to swear my life by tellin' tales av ivry time I had put

my mark on wan or another; an' my faith, they was few that was not so

dishtinguished. 'Twas all in the way av fair fight, though, for niver

did I raise my hand excipt whin they had provoked me to ut.

'“'Tis all well,” sez wan av thim, “but who's to do this shootin'?”

'“Fwhat matther?” sez Vulmea. “'Tis Mulvaney will do that--at the

Coort-Martial.”

'“He will so,” sez the man, “but whose hand is put to the trigger--_in

the room?_”

'“Who'll do ut?” sez Vulmea, lookin' round, but divil a man answeared.

They began to dishpute till Kiss, that was always playin' Shpoil Five,

sez: “Thry the kyards!” Wid that he opined his tunic an' tuk out the

greasy palammers, an' they all fell in wid the notion.

'“Deal on!” sez Vulmea, wid a big rattlin' oath, “an' the Black Curse

av Shielygh come to the man that will not do his duty as the kyards say.

Amin!”

'“Black Jack is the masther,” sez Kiss, dealin'. Black Jack, Sorr, I

shud expaytiate to you, is the Ace av Shpades which from time immimorial

has been intimately connect wid battle, murdher an' suddin death.

'_Wanst_ Kiss dealt an' there was no sign, but the men was whoite wid

the workin's av their sowls. _Twice_ Kiss dealt an' there was a gray

shine on their cheeks like the mess av an egg. _Three_ times Kiss dealt

an' they was blue. “Have ye not lost him?” sez Vulmea, wipin' the sweat

on him; “Let's ha' done quick!” “Quick ut is,” sez Kiss, t'rowin' him

the kyard; an' ut fell face up on his knee--Black Jack!

'Thin they all cackled wid laughin'. “Duty thrippence,” sez wan av thim,

“an' damned cheap at that price!” But I cud see they all dhrew a little

away from Vulmea an' lef' him sittin' playin' wid the kyard. Vulmea sez

no word for a whoile but licked his lips--cat-ways. Thin he threw up his

head an' made the men swear by ivry oath known to stand by him not alone

in the room but at the Coort-Martial that was to set on _me!_ He tould

off five av the biggest to stretch me on my cot whin the shot was fired,

an' another man he tould off to put out the light, an' yet another to

load my rifle. He wud not do that himself; an' that was quare, for 'twas

but a little thing considerin'.

'Thin they swore over again that they wud not bethray wan another, an'

crep' out av the grass in diff'rint ways, two by two. A mercy ut was

that they did not come on me. I was sick wid fear in the pit av my

stummick--sick, sick, sick! Afther they was all gone, I wint back to

Canteen an' called for a quart to put a thought in me. Vulmea was

there, dhrinkin' heavy, an' politeful to me beyond reason. “Fwhat will I

do--fwhat will I do?” thinks I to mesilf whin Vulmea wint away.

'Presintly the Arm'rer Sargint comes in stiffin' an' crackin' on, not

pleased wid any wan, bekaze the Martini Henri bein' new to the rig'mint

in those days we used to play the mischief wid her arrangements. 'Twas

a long time before I cud get out av the way av thryin' to pull back the

back-sight an' turnin' her over afther firin'--as if she was a Snider.

'“Fwhat tailor-men do they give me to work wid?” sez the Arm'rer

Sargint. “Here's Hogan, his nose flat as a table, laid by for a week,

an' ivry Comp'ny sendin' their arrums in knocked to small shivreens.”

'“Fwhat's wrong wid Hogan, Sargint?” sez I.

'“Wrong!” sez the Arm'rer Sargint; “I showed him, as though I had been

his mother, the way av shtrippin' a 'Tini, an' he shtrup her clane an'

easy. I tould him to put her to again an' fire a blank into the blow-pit

to show how the dirt hung on the groovin'. He did that, but he did not

put in the pin av the fallin'-block, an' av coorse whin he fired he was

strook by the block jumpin' clear. Well for him 'twas but a blank--a

full charge wud ha' cut his oi out.”

'I looked a thrifle wiser than a boiled sheep's head. “How's that,

Sargint?” sez I.

'“This way, ye blundherin' man, an' don't you be doin' ut,” sez he. Wid

that he shows me a Waster action--the breech av her all cut away to show

the inside--an' so plazed he was to grumble that he dimonstrated fwhat

Hogan had done twice over. “An' that comes av not knowin' the wepping

you're purvided wid,” sez he.

'“Thank ye, Sargint,” sez I; “I will come to you again for further

information.”

'“Ye will not,” sez he. “Kape your clanin'-rod away from the breech-pin

or you will get into throuble.”

'I wint outside an' I could ha' danced wid delight for the grandeur

av ut. “They will load my rifle, good luck to thim, whoile I'm away,”

thinks I, and back I wint to the Canteen to give them their clear

chanst.

'The Canteen was fillin' wid men at the ind av the day. I made feign

to be far gone in dhrink, an', wan by wan, all my roomful came in wid

Vulmea. I wint away, walkin' thick an' heavy, but not so thick an' heavy

that any wan cud ha' tuk me. Sure and thrue, there was a kyartridge gone

from my pouch an' lyin' snug in my rifle. I was hot wid rage against

thim all, an' I worried the bullet out wid my teeth as fast as I cud,

the room bein' empty. Then I tuk my boot an' the clanin'-rod and knocked

out the pin av the fallin'-block. Oh, 'twas music when that pin rowled

on the flure! I put ut into my pouch an' stuck a dab av dirt on the

holes in the plate, puttin' the fallin'-block back. “That'll do your

business, Vulmea,” sez I, lyin' easy on the cot. “Come an' sit on my

chest the whole room av you, an' I will take you to my bosom for the

biggest divils that iver cheated halter.” I wud have no mercy on Vulmea.

His oi or his life--little I cared!

'At dusk they came back, the twelve av thim, an' they had all been

dhrinkin'. I was shammin' sleep on the cot. Wan man wint outside in the

veranda. Whin he whishtled they began to rage roun' the room an' carry

on tremenjus. But I niver want to hear men laugh as they did--skylarkin'

too! 'Twas like mad jackals.

'“Shtop that blasted noise!” sez O'Hara in the dark, an' pop goes the

room-lamp. I cud hear O'Hara runnin' up an' the rattlin' av my rifle in

the rack an' the men breathin' heavy as they stud roun' my cot. I cud

see O'Hara in the light av the veranda lamp, an' thin I heard the crack

av my rifle. She cried loud, poor darlint, bein' mishandled. Next

minut' five men were houldin' me down. “Go easy,” I sez; “fwhat's ut all

about?”

'Thin Vulmea, on the flure, raised a howl you cud hear from wan ind av

cantonmints to the other. “I'm dead, I'm butchered, I'm blind!” sez he.

“Saints have mercy on my sinful sowl! Sind for Father Constant! Oh sind

for Father Constant an' let me go clean!” By that I knew he was not so

dead as I cud ha' wished.

'O'Hara picks up the lamp in the veranda wid a hand as stiddy as a rest.

“Fwhat damned dog's thrick is this av yours?” sez he, an turns the

light on Tim Vulmea that was shwimmin' in blood from top to toe. The

fallin'-block had sprung free behin' a full charge av powther--good care

I tuk to bite down the brass af ther takin' out the bullet that there

might be somethin' to give ut full worth--an' had cut Tim from the lip

to the corner av the right eye, lavin' the eyelid in tatthers, an' so up

an' along by the forehead to the hair. 'Twas more av a rakin' plough, if

you will ondherstand, than a clean cut; an' niver did I see a man bleed

as Vulmea did. The dhrink an' the stew that he was in pumped the blood

strong. The minut' the men sittin' on my chest heard O'Hara spakin' they

scatthered each wan to his cot, an' cried out very politeful: “Fwhat is

ut, Sargint?”

'“Fwhat is ut!” sez O'Hara, shakin' Tim. “Well an' good do you know

fwhat ut is, ye skulkin' ditch-lurkin' dogs! Get a _doolie,_ an' take

this whimperin' scutt away. There will be more heard av ut than any av

you will care for.”

'Vulmea sat up rockin' his head in his hand an' moanin' for Father

Constant.

'“Be done!” sez O'Hara, dhraggin' him up by the hair. “You're none so

dead that you cannot go fifteen years for thryin' to shoot me.”

'“I did not,” sez Vulmea; “I was shootin' mesilf.”

'“That's quare,” sez O'Hara, “for the front av my jackut is black wid

your powther.” He tuk up the rifle that was still warm an' began to

laugh. “I'll make your life Hell to you,” sez he, “for attempted murdher

an' kapin' your rifle onproperly. You'll be hanged first an' thin put

undher stoppages for four fifteen. The rifle's done for,” sez he.

'“Why, 'tis my rifle!” sez I, comin' up to look; “Vulmea, ye divil,

fwhat were you doin' wid her--answer me that?”

'“Lave me alone,” sez Vulmea; “I'm dyin'!”

'“I'll wait till you're betther,” sez I, “an' thin we two will talk ut

out umbrageous.”

'O'Hara pitched Tim into the _doolie_, none too tinder, but all the

bhoys kep' by their cots, which was not the sign av innocint men. I was

huntin' ivrywhere for my fallin'-block, but not findin' ut at all. I

niver found ut.

'”_Now_ fwhat will I do?” sez O'Hara, swinging the veranda light in his

hand an' lookin' down the room. I had hate and contimpt av O'Hara an' I

have now, dead tho' he is, but, for all that, will I say he was a brave

man. He is baskin' in Purgathory this tide, but I wish he cud hear that,

whin he stud lookin' down the room an' the bhoys shivered before the oi

av him, I knew him for a brave man an' I liked him _so_.

'“Fwhat will I do?” sez O'Hara agin, an' we heard the voice av a woman

low an' sof' in the veranda. 'Twas Slimmy's wife, come over at the shot,

sittin' on wan av the benches an' scarce able to walk.

'“O Denny!--Denny, dear,” sez she, “have they kilt you?”

'O'Hara looked down the room again an' showed his teeth to the gum. Then

he spat on the flure.

'“You're not worth ut,” sez he. “Light that lamp, ye dogs,” an' wid that

he turned away, an' I saw him walkin' off wid Slimmy's wife; she

thryin' to wipe off the powther-black on the front av his jackut wid her

handkerchief. “A brave man you are,” thinks I--“a brave man an' a bad

woman.”

'No wan said a word for a time. They was all ashamed, past spache.

'“Fwhat d'you think he will do?” sez wan av thim at last. “He knows

we're all in ut.”

'“Are we so?” sez I from my cot. “The man that sez that to me will

be hurt. I do not know,” sez I, “fwhat onderhand divilmint you have

conthrived, but by what I've seen I know that you cannot commit murdher

wid another man's rifle--such shakin' cowards you are. I'm goin' to

slape,” I sez, “an' you can blow my head off whoile I lay.” I did not

slape, though, for a long time. Can ye wonder?

'Next morn the news was through all the rig'mint, an' there was nothin'

that the men did not tell. O'Hara reports, fair an' easy, that Vulmea

was come to grief through tamperin' wid his rifle in barricks, all for

to show the mechanism. An' by my sowl, he had the impart'nince to say

that he was on the shpot at the time an' cud certify that ut was an

accidint! You might ha' knocked my roomful down wid a straw whin they

heard that. 'Twas lucky for thim that the bhoys were always thryin' to

find out how the new rifle was made, an' a lot av thim had come up for

easin' the pull by shtickin' bits av grass an' such in the part av the

lock that showed near the thrigger. The first issues of the 'Tinis was

not covered in, an' I mesilf have eased the pull av mine time an' agin.

A light pull is ten points on the range to me.

'“I will not have this foolishness!” sez the Colonel. “I will twist the

tail off Vulmea!” sez he; but whin he saw him, all tied up an' groanin'

in hospital, he changed his will. “Make him an early convalescint,” sez

he to the Doctor, an' Vulmea was made so for a warnin'. His big bloody

bandages an' face puckered up to wan side did more to kape the bhoys

from messin' wid the insides av their rifles than any punishmint.

'O'Hara gave no reason for fwhat he'd said, an' all my roomful were

too glad to inquire, tho' he put his spite upon thim more wearin' than

before. Wan day, howiver, he tuk me apart very polite, for he cud be

that at the choosin'.

'“You're a good sodger, tho' you're a damned insolint man,” sez he.

'“Fair words, Sargint,” sez I, “or I may be insolint again.”

'“'Tis not like you,” sez he, “to lave your rifle in the rack widout

the breech-pin, for widout the breech-pin she was whin Vulmea fired.

I should ha' found the break av ut in the eyes av the holes, else,” he

sez.

'“Sargint,” sez I, “fwhat wud your life ha' been worth av the breech-pin

had been in place, for, on my sowl, my life wud be worth just as much to

me av I tould you whether ut was or was not. Be thankful the bullet was

not there,” I sez.

'“That's thrue,” sez he, pulling his moustache; “but I do not believe

that you, for all your lip, was in that business.”

'“Sargint,” I sez, “I cud hammer the life out av a man in ten minuts wid

my fistes if that man dishpleased me; for I am a good sodger, an' I

will be threated as such, an' whoile my fistes are my own they're strong

enough for all work I have to do. They do not fly back towards me!” sez

I, lookin' him betune the eyes.

'“You're a good man,” sez he, lookin' me betune the eyes--an' oh he was

a gran'-built man to see!--“you're a good man,” he sez, “an' I cud wish,

for the pure frolic av ut, that I was not a Sargint, or that you were

not a Privit; an' you will think me no coward whin I say this thing.”

'“I do not,” sez I. “I saw you whin Vulmea mishandled the rifle. But,

Sargint,” I sez, “take the wurrd from me now, spakin' as man to man wid

the shtripes off, tho' 'tis little right I have to talk, me being fwhat

I am by natur'. This time ye tuk no harm, an' next time ye may not, but,

in the ind, so sure as Slimmy's wife came into the veranda, so sure will

ye take harm--an' bad harm. Have thought, Sargint,” sez I. “Is ut worth

ut?”

'“Ye're a bould man,” sez he, breathin' harrd. “A very bould man. But

I am a bould man tu. Do you go your way, Privit Mulvaney, an' I will go

mine.”

'We had no further spache thin or afther, but, wan by another, he

drafted the twelve av my room out into other rooms an' got thim spread

among the Comp'nies, for they was not a good breed to live together, an'

the Comp 'ny orf'cers saw ut. They wud ha' shot me in the night av they

had known fwhat I knew; but that they did not.

'An', in the ind, as I said, O'Hara met his death from Rafferty for

foolin' wid his wife. He wint his own way too well--Eyah, too well!

Shtraight to that affair, widout turnin' to the right or to the lef', he

wint, an' may the Lord have mercy on his sowl. Amin!'

''Ear! 'Ear!' said Ortheris, pointing the moral with a wave of his pipe.

'An' this is 'im 'oo would be a bloomin' Vulmea all for the sake of

Mullins an' a bloomin' button! Mullins never went after a woman in his

life. Mrs. Mullins, she saw 'im one day--'

'Ortheris,' I said, hastily, for the romances of Private Ortheris are

all too daring for publication, 'look at the sun. It's a quarter past

six!'

'O Lord! Three quarters of an hour for five an' a 'arf miles! We'll 'ave

to run like Jimmy O.'

The Three Musketeers clambered on to the bridge, and departed hastily

in the direction of the cantonment road. When I overtook them I offered

them two stirrups and a tail, which they accepted enthusiastically.

Ortheris held the tail, and in this manner we trotted steadily through

the shadows by an unfrequented road.

At the turn into the cantonments we heard carriage wheels. It was the

Colonel's barouche, and in it sat the Colonel's wife and daughter. I

caught a suppressed chuckle, and my beast sprang forward with a lighter

step.

The Three Musketeers had vanished into the night.