Wohl auf, my bully cavaliers,
We ride to church to-day,
The man that hasn't got a horse
Must steal one straight away.
* * * * *
Be reverent, men, remember
This is a Gottes haus.
Du, Conrad, cut along der aisle
And schenck der whiskey aus.
_Hans Breitmann's Ride to Church._
Once upon a time, very far from England, there lived three men who loved
each other so greatly that neither man nor woman could come between them.
They were in no sense refined, nor to be admitted to the outer-door mats
of decent folk, because they happened to be private soldiers in Her
Majesty's Army; and private soldiers of our service have small time for
self-culture. Their duty is to keep themselves and their accoutrements
specklessly clean, to refrain from getting drunk more often than is
necessary, to obey their superiors, and to pray for a war. All these
things my friends accomplished; and of their own motion threw in some
fighting-work for which the Army Regulations did not call. Their fate sent
them to serve in India, which is not a golden country, though poets have
sung otherwise. There men die with great swiftness, and those who live
suffer many and curious things. I do not think that my friends concerned
themselves much with the social or political aspects of the East. They
attended a not unimportant war on the northern frontier, another one on
our western boundary, and a third in Upper Burma. Then their regiment sat
still to recruit, and the boundless monotony of cantonment life was their
portion. They were drilled morning and evening on the same dusty
parade-ground. They wandered up and down the same stretch of dusty white
road, attended the same church and the same grog-shop, and slept in the
same lime-washed barn of a barrack for two long years. There was Mulvaney,
the father in the craft, who had served with various regiments from
Bermuda to Halifax, old in war, scarred, reckless, resourceful, and in his
pious hours an unequalled soldier. To him turned for help and comfort six
and a half feet of slow-moving, heavy-footed Yorkshireman, born on the
wolds, bred in the dales, and educated chiefly among the carriers' carts
at the back of York railway-station. His name was Learoyd, and his chief
virtue an unmitigated patience which helped him to win fights. How
Ortheris, a fox-terrier of a Cockney, ever came to be one of the trio, is
a mystery which even to-day I cannot explain. "There was always three av
us," Mulvaney used to say. "An' by the grace av God, so long as our
service lasts, three av us they'll always be. 'Tis betther so."
They desired no companionship beyond their own, and it was evil for any
man of the regiment who attempted dispute with them. Physical argument was
out of the question as regarded Mulvaney and the Yorkshireman; and assault
on Ortheris meant a combined attack from these twain--a business which no
five men were anxious to have on their hands. Therefore they flourished,
sharing their drinks, their tobacco, and their money; good luck and evil;
battle and the chances of death; life and the chances of happiness from
Calicut in southern, to Peshawur in northern India.
Through no merit of my own it was my good fortune to be in a measure
admitted to their friendship--frankly by Mulvaney from the beginning,
sullenly and with reluctance by Learoyd, and suspiciously by Ortheris, who
held to it that no man not in the Army could fraternize with a red-coat.
"Like to like," said he. "I'm a bloomin' sodger--he's a bloomin' civilian.
'Tain't natural--that's all."
But that was not all. They thawed progressively, and in the thawing told
me more of their lives and adventures than I am ever likely to write.
Omitting all else, this tale begins with the Lamentable Thirst that was at
the beginning of First Causes. Never was such a thirst--Mulvaney told me
so. They kicked against their compulsory virtue, but the attempt was only
successful in the case of Ortheris. He, whose talents were many, went
forth into the highways and stole a dog from a "civilian"--_videlicet_,
some one, he knew not who, not in the Army. Now that civilian was but
newly connected by marriage with the colonel of the regiment, and outcry
was made from quarters least anticipated by Ortheris, and, in the end, he
was forced, lest a worse thing should happen, to dispose at ridiculously
unremunerative rates of as promising a small terrier as ever graced one
end of a leading string. The purchase-money was barely sufficient for one
small outbreak which led him to the guard-room. He escaped, however, with
nothing worse than a severe reprimand, and a few hours of punishment
drill. Not for nothing had he acquired the reputation of being "the best
soldier of his inches" in the regiment. Mulvaney had taught personal
cleanliness and efficiency as the first articles of his companions' creed.
"A dhirty man," he was used to say, in the speech of his kind, "goes to
Clink for a weakness in the knees, an' is coort-martialled for a pair av
socks missin'; but a clane man, such as is an ornament to his service--a
man whose buttons are gold, whose coat is wax upon him, an' whose
'coutrements are widout a speck--that man may, spakin' in reason, do fwhat
he likes an' dhrink from day to divil. That's the pride av bein' dacint."
We sat together, upon a day, in the shade of a ravine far from the
barracks, where a watercourse used to run in rainy weather. Behind us was
the scrub jungle, in which jackals, peacocks, the grey wolves of the
Northwestern Provinces, and occasionally a tiger estrayed from Central
India, were supposed to dwell. In front lay the cantonment, glaring white
under a glaring sun; and on either side ran the broad road that led to
Delhi.
It was the scrub that suggested to my mind the wisdom of Mulvaney taking a
day's leave and going upon a shooting-tour. The peacock is a holy bird
throughout India, and he who slays one is in danger of being mobbed by the
nearest villagers; but on the last occasion that Mulvaney had gone forth,
he had contrived, without in the least offending local religious
susceptibilities, to return with six beautiful peacock skins which he sold
to profit. It seemed just possible then--
"But fwhat manner av use is ut to me goin' out widout a dhrink? The
ground's powdher-dhry underfoot, an' ut gets unto the throat fit to kill,"
wailed Mulvaney, looking at me reproachfully. "An' a peacock is not a bird
you can catch the tail av onless ye run. Can a man run on wather--an'
jungle-wather too?"
Ortheris had considered the question in all its bearings. He spoke,
chewing his pipe-stem meditatively the while:
"Go forth, return in glory,
To Clusium's royal 'ome:
An' round these bloomin' temples 'ang
The bloomin' shields o' Rome.
You better go. You ain't like to shoot yourself--not while there's a
chanst of liquor. Me an' Learoyd 'll stay at 'ome an' keep shop--'case o'
anythin' turnin' up. But you go out with a gas-pipe gun an' ketch the
little peacockses or somethin'. You kin get one day's leave easy as
winkin'. Go along an' get it, an' get peacockses or somethin'."
"Jock," said Mulvaney, turning to Learoyd, who was half asleep under the
shadow of the bank. He roused slowly.
"Sitha, Mulvaaney, go," said he.
And Mulvaney went; cursing his allies with Irish fluency and barrack-room
point.
"Take note," said he, when he had won his holiday, and appeared dressed in
his roughest clothes with the only other regimental fowling piece in his
hand. "Take note, Jock, an' you Orth'ris, I am goin' in the face av my own
will--all for to please you. I misdoubt anythin' will come av permiscuous
huntin' afther peacockses in a desolit lan'; an' I know that I will lie
down an' die wid thirrrst. Me catch peacockses for you, ye lazy
scutts--an' be sacrificed by the peasanthry--Ugh!"
He waved a huge paw and went away.
At twilight, long before the appointed hour, he returned empty-handed,
much begrimed with dirt.
"Peacockses?" queried Ortheris from the safe rest of a barrack-room table
whereon he was smoking cross-legged, Learoyd fast asleep on a bench.
"Jock," said Mulvaney, without answering, as he stirred up the sleeper.
"Jock, can ye fight? Will ye fight?"
Very slowly the meaning of the words communicated itself to the
half-roused man. He understood--and again--what might these things mean?
Mulvaney was shaking him savagely. Meantime the men in the room howled
with delight. There was war in the confederacy at last--war and the
breaking of bonds.
Barrack-room etiquette is stringent. On the direct challenge must follow
the direct reply. This is more binding than the ties of tried friendship.
Once again Mulvaney repeated the question. Learoyd answered by the only
means in his power, and so swiftly that the Irishman had barely time to
avoid the blow. The laughter around increased. Learoyd looked bewilderedly
at his friend--himself as greatly bewildered. Ortheris dropped from the
table because his world was falling.
"Come outside," said Mulvaney, and as the occupants of the barrack-room
prepared joyously to follow, he turned and said furiously, "There will be
no fight this night--onless any wan av you is wishful to assist. The man
that does, follows on."
No man moved. The three passed out into the moonlight, Learoyd fumbling
with the buttons of his coat. The parade-ground was deserted except for
the scurrying jackals. Mulvaney's impetuous rush carried his companions
far into the open ere Learoyd attempted to turn round and continue the
discussion.
"Be still now. 'Twas my fault for beginnin' things in the middle av an
end, Jock. I should ha' comminst wid an explanation; but Jock, dear, on
your sowl are ye fit, think you, for the finest fight that iver
was--betther than fightin' me? Considher before ye answer."
More than ever puzzled, Learoyd turned round two or three times, felt an
arm, kicked tentatively, and answered, "Ah'm fit." He was accustomed to
fight blindly at the bidding of the superior mind.
They sat them down, the men looking on from afar, and Mulvaney untangled
himself in mighty words.
"Followin' your fools' scheme I wint out into the thrackless desert beyond
the barricks. An' there I met a pious Hindu dhriving a bullock-kyart. I
tuk ut for granted he wud be delighted for to convoy me a piece, an' I
jumped in"--
"You long, lazy, black-haired swine," drawled Ortheris, who would have
done the same thing under similar circumstances.
"'Twas the height av policy. That naygur-man dhruv miles an' miles--as far
as the new railway line they're buildin' now back av the Tavi river. ''Tis
a kyart for dhirt only,' says he now an' again timoreously, to get me out
av ut. 'Dhirt I am,' sez I, 'an' the dhryest that you iver kyarted. Dhrive
on, me son, an' glory be wid you.' At that I wint to slape, an' took no
heed till he pulled up on the embankmmt av the line where the coolies were
pilin' mud. There was a matther av two thousand coolies on that line--you
remimber that. Prisintly a bell rang, an' they throops off to a big
pay-shed. 'Where's the white man in charge?' sez I to my kyart-dhriver.
'In the shed,' sez he, 'engaged on a riffle,'--'A fwhat?' sez I. 'Riffle,'
sez he, 'You take ticket. He take money. You get nothin'.--'Oho!' sez I,
'that's fwhat the shuperior an' cultivated man calls a raffle, me
misbeguided child av darkness an' sin. Lead on to that raffle, though
fwhat the mischief 'tis doin' so far away from uts home--which is the
charity-bazaar at Christmas, an' the colonel's wife grinnin' behind the
tea-table--is more than I know.' Wid that I wint to the shed an' found
'twas payday among the coolies. Their wages was on a table forninst a big,
fine, red buck av a man--sivun fut high, four fut wide, an' three fut
thick, wid a fist on him like a corn-sack. He was payin' the coolies fair
an' easy, but he wud ask each man If he wud raffle that month, an' each
man sez, 'Yes,' av course. Thin he wud deduct from their wages accordin'.
Whin all was paid, he filled an ould cigar-box full av gun-wads an'
scatthered ut among the coolies. They did not take much joy av that
performince, an' small wondher. A man close to me picks up a black gun-wad
an' sings out, 'I have ut,'--'Good may ut do you.' sez I. The coolie wint
forward to this big, fine, red man, who threw a cloth off av the most
sumpshus, jooled, enamelled an' variously bedivilled sedan-chair I iver
saw."
"Sedan-chair! Put your 'ead in a bag. That was a palanquin. Don't yer know
a palanquin when you see it?" said Ortheris with great scorn.
"I chuse to call ut sedan chair, an' chair ut shall be, little man,"
continued the Irishman. "Twas a most amazin' chair--all lined wid pink
silk an' fitted wid red silk curtains. 'Here ut is,' sez the red man.
'Here ut is,' sez the coolie, an' he grinned weakly-ways. 'Is ut any use
to you?' sez the red man. 'No,' sez the coolie; 'I'd like to make a
presint av ut to you.'--'I am graciously pleased to accept that same,' sez
the red man; an' at that all the coolies cried aloud in fwhat was mint for
cheerful notes, an' wint back to their diggin', lavin' me alone in the
shed. The red man saw me, an' his face grew blue on his big, fat neck.
'Fwhat d'you want here?' sez he. 'Standin'-room an' no more,' sez I,
'onless it may be fwhat ye niver had, an' that's manners, ye rafflin'
ruffian,' for I was not goin' to have the Service throd upon. 'Out of
this,' sez he. 'I'm in charge av this section av construction.'--'I'm in
charge av mesilf,' sez I, 'an' it's like I will stay a while. D'ye raffle
much in these parts?'--'Fwhat's that to you?' sez he. 'Nothin',' sez I,
'but a great dale to you, for begad I'm thinkin' you get the full half av
your revenue from that sedan-chair. Is ut always raffled so?' I sez, an'
wid that I wint to a coolie to ask questions. Bhoys, that man's name is
Dearsley, an' he's been rafflin' that ould sedan-chair monthly this
matther av nine months. Ivry coolie on the section takes a ticket--or he
gives 'em the go--wanst a month on pay-day. Ivry coolie that wins ut gives
ut back to him, for 'tis too big to carry away, an' he'd sack the man that
thried to sell ut. That Dearsley has been makin' the rowlin' wealth av
Roshus by nefarious rafflin'. Think av the burnin' shame to the sufferin'
coolie-man that the army in Injia are bound to protect an' nourish in
their bosoms! Two thousand coolies defrauded wanst a month!"
"Dom t' coolies. Has't gotten t' cheer, man?" said Learoyd.
"Hould on. Havin' onearthed this amazin' an' stupenjus fraud committed by
the man Dearsley, I hild a council av war; he thryin' all the time to
sejuce me into a fight wid opprobrious language. That sedan-chair niver
belonged by right to any foreman av coolies. 'Tis a king's chair or a
quane's. There's gold on ut an' silk an' all manner av trapesemints.
Bhoys, 'tis not for me to countenance any sort av wrong-doin'--me bein'
the ould man--but--anyway he has had ut nine months, an' he dare not make
throuble av ut was taken from him. Five miles away, or ut may be six"--
There was a long pause, and the jackals howled merrily. Learoyd bared one
arm, and contemplated it in the moonlight. Then he nodded partly to
himself and partly to his friends. Ortheris wriggled with suppressed
emotion.
"I thought ye wud see the reasonableness av ut," said Mulvaney. "I make
bould to say as much to the man before. He was for a direct front
attack--fut, horse, an' guns--an' all for nothin', seein' that I had no
thransport to convey the machine away. 'I will not argue wid you,' sez I,
'this day, but subsequintly, Mister Dearsley, me rafflin' jool, we talk ut
out lengthways. 'Tis no good policy to swindle the naygur av his
hard-earned emolumints, an' by presint informa-shin'--'twas the kyart man
that tould me--'ye've been perpethrating that same for nine months. But
I'm a just man,' sez I, 'an' over-lookin' the presumpshin that yondher
settee wid the gilt top was not come by honust'--at that he turned
sky-green, so I knew things was more thrue than tellable--'not come by
honust. I'm willin' to compound the felony for this month's winnin's.'"
"Ah! Ho!" from Learoyd and Ortheris.
"That man Dearsley's rushin' on his fate," continued Mulvaney, solemnly
wagging his head. "All Hell had no name bad enough for me that tide.
Faith, he called me a robber! Me! that was savin' him from continuin' in
his evil ways widout a remonstrince--an' to a man av conscience a
remonstrince may change the chune av his life. ''Tis not for me to argue,'
sez I, 'fwhatever ye are, Mister Dearsley, but, by my hand, I'll take away
the temptation for you that lies in that sedan-chair.'--'You will have to
fight me for ut,' sez he, 'for well I know you will never dare make report
to any one.'--'Fight I will,' sez I, 'but not this day, for I'm rejuced
for want av nourishment.'--'Ye're an ould bould hand,' sez he, sizin' me
up an' down; 'an' a jool av a fight we will have. Eat now an' dhrink, an'
go your way.' Wid that he gave me some hump an' whisky--good whisky--an'
we talked av this an' that the while. 'It goes hard on me now,' sez I,
wipin' my mouth, 'to confiscate that piece av furniture, but justice is
justice.'--'Ye've not got ut yet,' sez he; 'there's the fight
between.'--'There is,' sez I, 'an' a good fight. Ye shall have the pick av
the best quality in my rigimint for the dinner you have given this day.'
Thin I came hot-foot to you two. Hould your tongue, the both. 'Tis this
way. To-morrow we three will go there an' he shall have his pick betune me
an' Jock. Jock's a deceivin' fighter, for he is all fat to the eye, an' he
moves slow. Now I'm all beef to the look, an' I move quick. By my
reckonin' the Dearsley man won't take me; so me an' Orth'ris 'll see fair
play. Jock, I tell you, 'twill be big fightin'--whipped, wid the cream
above the jam. Afther the business 'twill take a good three av us--Jock
'll be very hurt--to haul away that sedan-chair."
"Palanquin." This from Ortheris.
"Fwhatever ut is, we must have ut. Tis the only sellin' piece av property
widin reach that we can get so cheap. An' fwhat's a fight afther all? He
has robbed the naygur-man, dishonust. We rob him honust for the sake av
the whisky he gave me."
"But wot'll we do with the bloomin' article when we've got it? Them
palanquins are as big as 'ouses, an' uncommon 'ard to sell, as McCleary
said when ye stole the sentry-box from the Curragh."
"Who's goin' to do t' fightin'?" said Learoyd, and Ortheris subsided. The
three returned to barracks without a word. Mulvaney's last argument
clinched the matter. This palanquin was property, vendible, and to be
attained in the simplest and least embarrassing fashion. It would
eventually become beer. Great was Mulvaney.
Next afternoon a procession of three formed itself and disappeared into
the scrub in the direction of the new railway line. Learoyd alone was
without care, for Mulvaney dived darkly into the future, and little
Ortheris feared the unknown, What befell at that interview in the lonely
pay-shed by the side of the half-built embankment, only a few hundred
coolies know, and their tale is a confusing one, running thus--
"We were at work. Three men in red coats came. They saw the
Sahib--Dearsley Sahib. They made oration; and noticeably the small man
among the red-coats. Dearsley Sahib also made oration, and used many very
strong words, Upon this talk they departed together to an open space, and
there the fat man in the red coat fought with Dearsley Sahib after the
custom of white men--with his hands, making no noise, and never at all
pulling Dearsley Sahib's hair. Such of us as were not afraid beheld these
things for just so long a time as a man needs to cook the midday meal. The
small man in the red coat had possessed himself of Dearsley Sahib's watch.
No, he did not steal that watch. He held it in his hand, and at certain
seasons made outcry, and the twain ceased their combat, which was like the
combat of young bulls in spring. Both men were soon all red, but Dearsley
Sahib was much more red than the other. Seeing this, and fearing for his
life--because we greatly loved him--some fifty of us made shift to rush
upon the red-coats. But a certain man--very black as to the hair, and in
no way to be confused with the small man, or the fat man who fought--that
man, we affirm, ran upon us, and of us he embraced some ten or fifty in
both arms, and beat our heads together, so that our livers turned to
water, and we ran away. It is not good to interfere in the fightings of
white men. After that Dearsley Sahib fell and did not rise, these men
jumped upon his stomach and despoiled him of all his money, and attempted
to fire the pay-shed, and departed. Is it true that Dearsley Sahib makes
no complaint of these latter things having been done? We were senseless
with fear, and do not at all remember. There was no palanquin near the
pay-shed. What do we know about palanquins? Is it true that Dearsley Sahib
does not return to this place, on account of his sickness, for ten days?
This is the fault of those bad men in the red coats, who should be
severely punished; for Dearsley Sahib is both our father and mother, and
we love him much. Yet, if Dearsley Sahib does not return to this place at
all, we will speak the truth. There was a palanquin, for the up-keep of
which we were forced to pay nine-tenths of our monthly wage. On such
mulctings Dearsley Sahib allowed us to make obeisance to him before the
palanquin. What could we do? We were poor men. He took a full half of our
wages. Will the Government repay us those moneys? Those three men in red
coats bore the palanquin upon their shoulders and departed. All the money
that Dearsley Sahib had taken from us was in the cushions of that
palanquin. Therefore they stole it. Thousands of rupees were there--all
our money. It was our bank-box, to fill which we cheerfully contributed to
Dearsley Sahib three-sevenths of our monthly wage. Why does the white man
look upon us with the eye of disfavor? Before God, there was a palanquin,
and now there is no palanquin; and if they send the police here to make
inquisition, we can only say that there never has been any palanquin. Why
should a palanquin be near these works? We are poor men, and we know
nothing."
Such is the simplest version of the simplest story connected with the
descent upon Dearsley. From the lips of the coolies I received it.
Dearsley himself was in no condition to say anything, and Mulvaney
preserved a massive silence, broken only by the occasional licking of the
lips. He had seen a fight so gorgeous that even his power of speech was
taken from him. I respected that reserve until, three days after the
affair, I discovered in a disused stable in my quarters a palanquin of
unchastened splendor--evidently in past days the litter of a queen. The
pole whereby it swung between the shoulders of the bearers was rich with
the painted _papier-maché_ of Cashmere. The shoulder-pads were of yellow
silk. The panels of the litter itself were ablaze with the loves of all
the gods and goddesses of the Hindu Pantheon--lacquer on cedar. The cedar
sliding doors were fitted with hasps of translucent Jaipur enamel and ran
in grooves shod with silver. The cushions were of brocaded Delhi silk, and
the curtains which once hid any glimpse of the beauty of the king's palace
were stiff with gold. Closer investigation showed that the entire fabric
was everywhere rubbed and discolored by time and wear; but even thus it
was sufficiently gorgeous to deserve housing on the threshold of a royal
zenana. I found no fault with it, except that it was in my stable. Then,
trying to lift it by the silver-shod shoulder-pole, I laughed. The road
from Dearsley's pay-shed to the cantonment was a narrow and uneven one,
and, traversed by three very inexperienced palanquin-bearers, one of whom
was sorely battered about the head, must have been a path of torment.
Still I did not quite recognize the right of the three musketeers to turn
me into a "fence" for stolen property.
"I'm askin' you to warehouse ut," said Mulvaney when he was brought to
consider the question. "There's no steal in ut. Dearsley tould us we cud
have ut if we fought. Jock fought--an', oh, sorr, when the throuble was at
uts finest an' Jock was bleedin' like a stuck pig, an' little Orth'ris was
shquealin' on one leg chewin' big bites out av Dearsley's watch, I wud ha'
given my place at the fight to have had you see wan round. He tuk Jock, as
I suspicioned he would, an' Jock was deceptive. Nine roun's they were even
matched, an' at the tenth--About that palanquin now, There's not the least
throuble in the world, or we wud not ha' brought ut here. You will
ondherstand that the Queen--God bless her!--does not reckon for a privit
soldier to kape elephints an' palanquins an' sich in barricks. Afther we
had dhragged ut down from Dearsley's through that cruel scrub that near
broke Orth'ris's heart, we set ut in the ravine for a night; an' a thief
av a porcupine an' a civet-cat av a jackal roosted in ut, as well we knew
in the mornin'. I put ut to you, sorr, is an elegint palanquin, fit for
the princess, the natural abidin' place av all the vermin in cantonmints?
We brought ut to you, afther dhark, and put ut in your shtable. Do not let
your conscience prick. Think av the rejoicin' men in the pay-shed
yonder--lookin' at Dearsley wid his head tied up in a towel--an' well
knowin' that they can dhraw their pay ivry month widout stoppages for
riffles. Indirectly, sorr, you have rescued from an onprincipled son av a
night-hawk the peasanthry av a numerous village. An' besides, will I let
that sedan-chair rot on our hands? Not I. Tis not every day a piece av
pure joolry comes into the market. There's not a king widin these forty
miles"--he waved his hand round the dusty horizon--"not a king wud not be
glad to buy ut. Some day meself, whin I have leisure, I'll take ut up
along the road an' dishpose av ut."
"How?" said I, for I knew the man was capable of anything.
"Get into ut, av coorse, and keep wan eye open through the curtains. Whin
I see a likely man av the native persuasion, I will descind blushin' from
my canopy and say, 'Buy a palanquin, ye black scutt?' I will have to hire
four men to carry me first, though; and that's impossible till next
pay-day."
Curiously enough, Learoyd, who had fought for the prize, and in the
winning secured the highest pleasure life had to offer him, was altogether
disposed to undervalue it, while Ortheris openly said it would be better
to break the thing up. Dearsley, he argued, might be a many-sided man,
capable, despite his magnificent fighting qualities, of setting in motion
the machinery of the civil law--a thing much abhorred by the soldier.
Under any circumstances their fun had come and passed; the next pay-day
was close at hand, when there would be beer for all. Wherefore longer
conserve the painted palanquin?
"A first-class rifle-shot an' a good little man av your inches you are,"
said Mulvaney. "But you niver had a head worth a soft-boiled egg. 'Tis me
has to lie awake av nights schamin' an' plottin' for the three av us.
Orth'ris, me son, 'tis no matther av a few gallons av beer--no, nor twenty
gallons--but tubs an' vats an' firkins in that sedan-chair. Who ut was,
an' what ut was, an' how ut got there, we do not know; but I know in my
bones that you an' me an' Jock wid his sprained thumb will get a fortune
thereby. Lave me alone, an' let me think."
Meantime the palanquin stayed in my stall, the key of which was in
Mulvaney's hands.
Pay-day came, and with it beer. It was not in experience to hope that
Mulvaney, dried by four weeks' drought, would avoid excess. Next morning
he and the palanquin had disappeared. He had taken the precaution of
getting three days' leave "to see a friend on the railway," and the
colonel, well knowing that the seasonal outburst was near, and hoping it
would spend its force beyond the limits of his jurisdiction, cheerfully
gave him all he demanded. At this point Mulvaney's history, as recorded in
the mess-room, stopped.
Ortheris carried it not much further. "No, 'e wasn't drunk," said the
little man loyally, "the liquor was no more than feelin' its way round
inside of 'im; but 'e went an' filled that 'ole bloomin' palanquin with
bottles 'fore 'e went off. 'E's gone an' 'ired six men to carry 'im, an' I
'ad to 'elp 'im into 'is nupshal couch, 'cause 'e wouldn't 'ear reason.
'E's gone off in 'is shirt an' trousies, swearin' tremenjus--gone down the
road in the palanquin, wavin' 'is legs out o' windy."
"Yes," said I, "but where?"
"Now you arx me a question. 'E said 'e was goin' to sell that palanquin,
but from observations what happened when I was stuffin' 'im through the
door, I fancy 'e's gone to the new embankment to mock at Dearsley. 'Soon
as Jock's off duty I'm goin' there to see if 'e's safe--not Mulvaney, but
t'other man. My saints, but I pity 'im as 'elps Terence out o' the
palanquin when 'e's once fair drunk!"
"He'll come back without harm," I said.
"'Corse 'e will. On'y question is, what 'll 'e be doin' on the road?
Killing Dearsley, like as not. 'E shouldn't 'a gone without Jock or me."
Reinforced by Learoyd, Ortheris sought the foreman of the coolie-gang.
Dearsley's head was still embellished with towels. Mulvaney, drunk or
sober, would have struck no man in that condition, and Dearsley
indignantly denied that he would have taken advantage of the intoxicated
brave.
"I had my pick o' you two," he explained to Learoyd, "and you got my
palanquin--not before I'd made my profit on it. Why'd I do harm when
everything's settled? Your man _did_ come here--drunk as Davy's sow on a
frosty night--came a-purpose to mock me--stuck his head out of the door
an' called me a crucified hodman. I made him drunker, an' sent him along.
But I never touched him."
To these things Learoyd, slow to perceive the evidences of sincerity,
answered only, "If owt comes to Mulvaaney 'long o' you, I'll gripple you,
clouts or no clouts on your ugly head, an' I'll draw t' throat twistyways,
man. See there now."
The embassy removed itself, and Dearsley, the battered, laughed alone over
his supper that evening.
Three days passed--a fourth and a fifth. The week drew to a close and
Mulvaney did not return. He, his royal palanquin, and his six attendants,
had vanished into air. A very large and very tipsy soldier, his feet
sticking out of the litter of a reigning princess, is not a thing to
travel along the ways without comment. Yet no man of all the country round
had seen any such wonder. He was, and he was not; and Learoyd suggested
the immediate smashment of Dearsley as a sacrifice to his ghost. Ortheris
insisted that all was well, and in the light of past experience his hopes
seemed reasonable.
"When Mulvaney goes up the road," said he, "'e's like to go a very long
ways up, specially when 'e's so blue drunk as 'e is now. But what gits me
is 'is not bein' 'eard of pullin' wool off the niggers somewheres about.
That don't look good. The drink must ha' died out in 'im by this, unless
e's broke a bank, an' then--Why don't 'e come back? 'E didn't ought to ha'
gone off without us."
Even Ortheris's heart sank at the end of the seventh day, for half the
regiment were out scouring the countryside, and Learoyd had been forced to
fight two men who hinted openly that Mulvaney had deserted. To do him
justice, the colonel laughed at the notion, even when it was put forward
by his much-trusted adjutant.
"Mulvaney would as soon think of deserting as you would," said he. "No;
he's either fallen into a mischief among the villagers--and yet that isn't
likely, for he'd blarney himself out of the Pit; or else he is engaged on
urgent private affairs--some stupendous devilment that we shall hear of at
mess after it has been the round of the barrack-rooms. The worst of it is
that I shall have to give him twenty-eight days' confinement at least for
being absent without leave, just when I most want him to lick the new
batch of recruits into shape. I never knew a man who could put a polish on
young soldiers as quickly as Mulvaney can. How does he do it?"
"With blarney and the buckle-end of a belt, sir," said the adjutant. "He
is worth a couple of non-commissioned officers when we are dealing with an
Irish draft, and the London lads seem to adore him. The worst of it is
that if he goes to the cells the other two are neither to hold nor to bind
till he comes out again. I believe Ortheris preaches mutiny on those
occasions, and I know that the mere presence of Learoyd mourning for
Mulvaney kills all the cheerfulness of his room, The sergeants tell me
that he allows no man to laugh when he feels unhappy. They are a queer
gang."
"For all that, I wish we had a few more of them. I like a well-conducted
regiment, but these pasty-faced, shifty-eyed, mealy-mouthed young
slouchers from the depôt worry me sometimes with their offensive virtue.
They don't seem to have backbone enough to do anything but play cards and
prowl round the married quarters. I believe I'd forgive that old villain
on the spot if he turned up with any sort of explanation that I could in
decency accept."
"Not likely to be much difficulty about that, sir," said the adjutant.
"Mulvaney's explanations are only one degree less wonderful than his
performances. They say that when he was in the Black Tyrone, before he
came to us, he was discovered on the banks of the Liffey trying to sell
his colonel's charger to a Donegal dealer as a perfect lady's hack.
Shackbolt commanded the Tyrone then."
"Shackbolt must have had apoplexy at the thought of his ramping war-horses
answering to that description. He used to buy unbacked devils, and tame
them on some pet theory of starvation. What did Mulvaney say?"
"That he was a member of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to
Animals, anxious to 'sell the poor baste where he would get something to
fill out his dimples.' Shackbolt laughed, but I fancy that was why
Mulvaney exchanged to ours."
"I wish he were back," said the colonel; "for I like him and believe he
likes me."
That evening, to cheer our souls, Learoyd, Ortheris, and I went into the
waste to smoke out a porcupine. All the dogs attended, but even their
clamor--and they began to discuss the shortcomings of porcupines before
they left cantonments--could not take us out of ourselves. A large, low
moon turned the tops of the plume-grass to silver, and the stunted
camel-thorn bushes and sour tamarisks into the likenesses of trooping
devils. The smell of the sun had not left the earth, and little aimless
winds blowing across the rose-gardens to the southward brought the scent
of dried roses and water. Our fire once started, and the dogs craftily
disposed to wait the dash of the porcupine, we climbed to the top of a
rain-scarred hillock of earths and looked across the scrub seamed with
cattle paths, white with the long grass, and dotted with spots of level
pond-bottom, where the snipe would gather in winter.
"This," said Ortheris, with a sigh, as he took in the unkempt desolation
of it all, "this is sanguinary. This is unusually sanguinary. Sort o' mad
country. Like a grate when the fire's put out by the sun." He shaded his
eyes against the moonlight. "An' there's a loony dancin' in the middle of
it all. Quite right. I'd dance too if I wasn't so downheart."
There pranced a Portent in the face of the moon--a huge and ragged spirit
of the waste, that flapped its wings from afar. It had risen out of the
earth; it was coming toward us, and its outline was never twice the same.
The toga, table-cloth, or dressing-gown, whatever the creature wore, took
a hundred shapes. Once it stopped on a neighboring mound and flung all its
legs and arms to the winds.
"My, but that scarecrow 'as got 'em bad!" said Ortheris. "Seems like if 'e
comes any furder we'll 'ave to argify with 'im."
Learoyd raised himself from the dirt as a bull clears his flanks of the
wallow. And as a bull bellows, so he, after a short minute at gaze, gave
tongue to the stars.
"MULVAANEY! MULVAANEY! A-hoo!"
Oh then it was that we yelled, and the figure dipped into the hollow,
till, with a crash of rending grass, the lost one strode up to the light
of the fire, and disappeared to the waist in a wave of joyous dogs! Then
Learoyd and Ortheris gave greeting, bass and falsetto together, both
swallowing a lump in the throat.
"You damned fool!" said they, and severally pounded him with their fists.
"Go easy!" he answered; wrapping a huge arm around each. "I would have you
to know that I am a god, to be treated as such--tho', by my faith, I fancy
I've got to go to the guardroom just like a privit soldier."
The latter part of the sentence destroyed the suspicions raised by the
former. Any one would have been justified in regarding Mulvaney as mad. He
was hatless and shoeless, and his shirt and trousers were dropping off
him. But he wore one wondrous garment--a gigantic cloak that fell from
collar-bone to heel--of pale pink silk, wrought all over in cunningest
needlework of hands long since dead, with the loves of the Hindu gods. The
monstrous figures leaped in and out of the light of the fire as he settled
the folds round him.
Ortheris handled the stuff respectfully for a moment while I was trying to
remember where I had seen it before. Then he screamed, "What _'ave_ you
done with the palanquin? You're wearin' the linin'."
"I am," said the Irishman, "an' by the same token the 'broidery is
scrapin' my hide off. I've lived in this sumpshus counterpane for four
days. Me son, I begin to ondherstand why the naygur is no use, Widout me
boots, an' me trousies like an openwork stocking on a gyurl's leg at a
dance, I begin to feel like a naygur-man--all fearful an' timoreous. Give
me a pipe an' I'll tell on."
He lit a pipe, resumed his grip of his two friends, and rocked to and fro
in a gale of laughter.
"Mulvaney," said Ortheris sternly, "'tain't no time for laughin'. You've
given Jock an' me more trouble than you're worth. You 'ave been absent
without leave an' you'll go into cells for that; an' you 'ave come back
disgustin'ly dressed an' most improper in the linin' o' that bloomin'
palanquin, Instid of which you laugh. An' we thought you was dead all the
time."
"Bhoys," said the culprit, still shaking gently, "whin I've done my tale
you may cry if you like, an' little Orth'ris here can thrample my inside
out. Ha' done an' listen. My performinces have been stupenjus: my luck has
been the blessed luck av the British Army--an' there's no betther than
that. I went out dhrunk an' dhrinkin' in the palanquin, and I have come
back a pink god. Did any of you go to Dearsley afther my time was up? He
was at the bottom of ut all."
"Ah said so," murmured Learoyd. "Tomorrow ah'll smash t' face in upon his
heead."
"Ye will not. Dearsley's a jool av a man. Afther Ortheris had put me into
the palanquin an' the six bearer-men were gruntin' down the road, I tuk
thought to mock Dearsley for that fight. So I tould thim, 'Go to the
embankmint,' and there, bein' most amazin' full, I shtuck my head out av
the concern an' passed compliments wid Dearsley. I must ha' miscalled him
outrageous, for whin I am that way the power av the tongue comes on me. I
can bare remimber tellin' him that his mouth opened endways like the mouth
av a skate, which was thrue afther Learoyd had handled ut; an' I clear
remimber his takin' no manner nor matter av offence, but givin' me a big
dhrink of beer. Twas the beer did the thrick, for I crawled back into the
palanquin, steppin' on me right ear wid me left foot, an' thin slept like
the dead. Wanst I half-roused, an' begad the noise in my head was
tremenjus--roarin' and rattlin' an' poundin', such as was quite new to me.
'Mother av Mercy,' thinks I, 'phwat a concertina I will have on my
shoulders whin I wake!' An' wid that I curls mysilf up to sleep before ut
should get hould on me. Bhoys, that noise was not dhrink, 'twas the rattle
av a thrain!"
There followed an impressive pause.
"Yes, he had put me on a thrain--put me, palanquin an' all, an' six black
assassins av his own coolies that was in his nefarious confidence, on the
flat av a ballast-thruck, and we were rowlin' an' bowlin' along to
Benares. Glory be that I did not wake up thin an' introjuce mysilf to the
coolies. As I was sayin', I slept for the betther part av a day an' a
night. But remimber you, that that man Dearsley had packed me off on wan
av his material-thrains to Benares, all for to make me overstay my leave
an' get me into the cells."
The explanation was an eminently rational one. Benares lay at least ten
hours by rail from the cantonments, and nothing in the world could have
saved Mulvaney from arrest as a deserter had he appeared there in the
apparel of his orgies. Dearsley had not forgotten to take revenge.
Learoyd, drawing back a little, began to place soft blows over selected
portions of Mulvaney's body. His thoughts were away on the embankment, and
they meditated evil for Dearsley. Mulvaney continued--
"Whin I was full awake the palanquin was set down in a street, I
suspicioned, for I cud hear people passin' an' talkin'. But I knew well I
was far from home. There is a queer smell upon our cantonments--a smell av
dried earth and brick-kilns wid whiffs av cavalry stable-litter. This
place smelt marigold flowers an' bad water, an' wanst somethin' alive came
an' blew heavy with his muzzle at the chink av the shutter. 'It's in a
village I am,' thinks I to myself, 'an' the parochial buffalo is
investigatin' the palanquin.' But anyways I had no desire to move. Only
lie still whin you're in foreign parts an' the standin' luck av the
British Army will carry ye through. That is an epigram. I made ut.
"Thin a lot av whishperin' divils surrounded the palanquin. 'Take ut up,'
sez wan man. 'But who'll pay us?' sez another. 'The Maharanee's minister,
av coorse,' sez the man. 'Oho!' sez I to mysilf, 'I'm a quane in me own
right, wid a minister to pay me expenses. I'll be an emperor if I lie
still long enough; but this is no village I've found.' I lay quiet, but I
gummed me right eye to a crack av the shutters, an' I saw that the whole
street was crammed wid palanquins an' horses, an' a sprinklin' av naked
priests all yellow powder an' tigers' tails. But I may tell you, Orth'ris,
an' you, Learoyd, that av all the palanquins ours was the most imperial
an' magnificent Now a palanquin means a native lady all the world over,
except whin a soldier av the Quane happens to be takin' a ride. 'Women an'
priests!' sez I. 'Your father's son is in the right pew this time,
Terence. There will be proceedin's. Six black divils in pink muslin tuk up
the palanquin, an' oh! but the rowlin' an' the rockin' made me sick. Thin
we got fair jammed among the palanquins--not more than fifty av them--an'
we grated an' bumped like Queenstown potato-smacks in a runnin' tide. I
cud hear the women gigglin' and squirkin' in their palanquins, but mine
was the royal equipage. They made way for ut, an', begad, the pink muslin
men o' mine were howlin', 'Room for the Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun.' Do
you know aught av the lady, sorr?"
"Yes," said I, "She is a very estimable old queen of the Central Indian
States, and they say she is fat. How on earth could she go to Benares
without all the city knowing her palanquin?"
"'Twas the eternal foolishness av the naygur-man. They saw the palanquin
lying loneful an' forlornsome, an' the beauty av ut, after Dearsley's men
had dhropped ut and gone away, an' they gave ut the best name that
occurred to thim. Quite right too. For aught we know the ould lady was
travelin' _incog_--like me. I'm glad to hear she's fat. I was no light
weight mysilf, an' my men were mortial anxious to dhrop me under a great
big archway promiscuously ornamented wid the most improper carvin's an'
cuttin's I iver saw. Begad! they made me blush--like a--like a Maharanee."
"The temple of Prithi-Devi," I murmured, remembering the monstrous horrors
of that sculptured archway at Benares.
"Pretty Devilskins, savin' your presence, sorr! There was nothin' pretty
about ut, except me. Twas all half dhark, an' whin the coolies left they
shut a big black gate behind av us, an' half a company av fat yellow
priests began pully-haulin' the palanquins into a dharker place yet--a big
stone hall full av pillars, an' gods, an' incense, an' all manner av
similar thruck. The gate disconcerted me, for I perceived I wud have to go
forward to get out, my retreat bein' cut off. By the same token a good
priest makes a bad palanquin-coolie. Begad! they nearly turned me inside
out draggin' the palanquin to the temple. Now the disposishin av the
forces inside was this way. The Maharanee av Gokral-Seetarun--that was
me--lay by the favor av Providence on the far left flank behind the dhark
av a pillar carved with elephints' heads, The remainder av the palanquins
was in a big half circle facing in to the biggest, fattest, an' most
amazin' she-god that iver I dreamed av. Her head ran up into the black
above us, an' her feet stuck out in the light av a little fire av melted
butter that a priest was feedin' out av a butter-dish. Thin a man began to
sing an' play on somethin' back in the dhark, an' 'twas a queer song. Ut
made my hair lift on the back av my neck, Thin the doors av all the
palanquins slid back, an' the women bundled out, I saw what I'll niver see
again. Twas more glorious than transformations at a pantomime, for they
was in pink an' blue an' silver an' red an' grass green, wid di'monds an'
im'ralds an' great red rubies all over thim. But that was the least part
av the glory. O bhoys, they were more lovely than the like av any
loveliness in hiven; ay, their little bare feet were better than the white
hands av a lord's lady, an' their mouths were like puckered roses, an'
their eyes were bigger an' dharker than the eyes av any livin' women I've
seen. Ye may laugh, but I'm speakin' truth. I niver saw the like, an'
niver I will again."
"Seeing that in all probability you were watching the wives and daughters
of most of the kings of India, the chances are that you won't," I said,
for it was dawning on me that Mulvaney had stumbled upon a big Queens'
Praying at Benares.
"I niver will," he said, mournfully. "That sight doesn't come twist to any
man. It made me ashamed to watch. A fat priest knocked at my door. I
didn't think he'd have the insolince to disturb the Maharanee av
Gokral-Seetarun, so I lay still. 'The old cow's asleep,' sez he to
another. 'Let her be,' sez that. ''Twill be long before she has a calf!' I
might ha' known before he spoke that all a woman prays for in Injia--an'
for matter o' that in England too--is childher. That made me more sorry
I'd come, me bein', as you well know, a childless man."
He was silent for a moment, thinking of his little son, dead many years
ago.
"They prayed, an' the butter-fires blazed up an' the incense turned
everything blue, an' between that an' the fires the women looked as tho'
they were all ablaze an' twinklin'. They took hold av the she-god's knees,
they cried out an' they threw themselves about, an' that
world-without-end-amen music was dhrivin' thim mad. Mother av Hiven! how
they cried, an' the ould she-god grinnin' above thim all so scornful! The
dhrink was dyin' out in me fast, an' I was thinkin' harder than the
thoughts wud go through my head-thinkin' how to get out, an' all manner of
nonsense as well. The women were rockin' in rows, their di'mond belts
clickin', an' the tears runnin' out betune their hands, an' the lights
were goin' lower an' dharker. Thin there was a blaze like lightnin' from
the roof, an' that showed me the inside av the palanquin, an' at the end
where my foot was, stood the livin' spit an' image o' mysilf worked on the
linin'. This man here, ut was."
He hunted in the folds of his pink cloak, ran a hand under one, and thrust
into the firelight a foot-long embroidered presentment of the great god
Krishna, playing on a flute. The heavy jowl, the staring eye, and the
blue-black moustache of the god made up a far-off resemblance to Mulvaney.
"The blaze was gone in a wink, but the whole schame came to me thin, I
believe I was mad too. I slid the off-shutter open an' rowled out into the
dhark behind the elephint-head pillar, tucked up my trousies to my knees,
slipped off my boots an' tuk a general hould av all the pink linin' av the
palanquin. Glory be, ut ripped out like a woman's dhriss whin you tread on
ut at a sergeants' ball, an' a bottle came with ut. I tuk the bottle an'
the next minut I was out av the dhark av the pillar, the pink linin'
wrapped round me most graceful, the music, thunderin' like kettledrums,
an' a could draft blowin' round my bare legs. By this hand that did ut, I
was Khrishna tootlin' on the flute--the god that the rig'mental chaplain
talks about. A sweet sight I must ha' looked. I knew my eyes were big, and
my face was wax-white, an' at the worst I must ha' looked like a ghost.
But they took me for the livin' god. The music stopped, and the women were
dead dumb an' I crooked my legs like a shepherd on a china basin, an' I
did the ghost-waggle with my feet as I had done ut at the rig'mental
theatre many times, an' I slid acrost the width av that temple in front av
the she-god tootlin' on the beer bottle."
"Wot did you toot?" demanded Ortheris the practical.
"Me? Oh!" Mulvaney sprang up, suiting the action to the word, and sliding
gravely in front of us, a dilapidated but imposing deity in the half
light. "I sang--
"Only say
You'll be Mrs. Brallaghan.
Don't say nay,
Charmin' Judy Callaghan."
I didn't know me own voice when I sang. An' oh! 'twas pitiful to see the
women. The darlin's were down on their faces. Whin I passed the last wan I
cud see her poor little fingers workin' one in another as if she wanted to
touch my feet. So I dhrew the tail av this pink overcoat over her head for
the greater honor, an' I slid into the dhark on the other side av the
temple, and fetched up in the arms av a big fat priest. All I wanted was
to get away clear. So I tak him by his greasy throat an' shut the speech
out av him, 'Out!' sez I. 'Which way, ye fat heathen?'--'Oh!' sez he.
'Man,' sez I. 'White man, soldier man, common soldier man. Where in the
name av confusion is the back door?' The women in the temple were still on
their faces, an' a young priest was holdin' out his arms above their
heads.
"'This way,' sez my fat friend, duckin' behind a big bull-god an' divin'
into a passage, Thin I remimbered that I must ha' made the miraculous
reputation av that temple for the next fifty years. 'Not so fast,' I sez,
an' I held out both my hands wid a wink. That ould thief smiled like a
father. I tuk him by the back av the neck in case he should be wishful to
put a knife into me unbeknownst, an' I ran him up an' down the passage
twice to collect his sensibilities! 'Be quiet,' sez he, in English. 'Now
you talk sense,' I sez. 'Fwhat'll you give me for the use av that most
iligant palanquin I have no time to take away?'--'Don't tell,' sez he, 'Is
ut like?' sez I, 'But ye might give me my railway fare. I'm far from my
home an' I've done you a service.' Bhoys, 'tis a good thing to be a
priest. The ould man niver throubled himself to dhraw from a bank. As I
will prove to you subsequint, he philandered all round the slack av his
clothes an' began dribblin' ten-rupee notes, old gold mohurs, and rupees
into my hand till I could hould no more."
"You lie!" said Ortheris. "You're mad or sunstrook. A native don't give
coin unless you cut it out o' 'im. 'Tain't nature."
"Then my lie an' my sunstroke is concealed under that lump av sod yonder,"
retorted Mulvaney, unruffled, nodding across the scrub. "An' there's a
dale more in nature than your squidgy little legs have iver taken you to,
Orth'ris, me son. Four hundred an' thirty-four rupees by my reckoning
_an'_ a big fat gold necklace that I took from him as a remimbrancer, was
our share in that business."
"An' 'e give it you for love?" said Ortheris.
"We were alone in that passage. Maybe I was a trifle too pressin', but
considher fwhat I had done for the good av the temple and the iverlastin'
joy av those women. Twas cheap at the price. I wud ha' taken more if I cud
ha' found ut. I turned the ould man upside down at the last, but he was
milked dhry. Thin he opened a door in another passage an' I found mysilf
up to my knees in Benares river-water, an' bad smellin' ut is. More by
token I had come out on the river-line close to the burnin' ghat and
contagious to a cracklin' corpse. This was in the heart av the night, for
I had been four hours in the temple. There was a crowd av boats tied up,
so I tuk wan an' wint across the river, Thin I came home acrost country,
lyin' up by day."
"How on earth did you manage?" I said.
"How did Sir Frederick Roberts get from Cabul to Candahar? He marched an'
he niver tould how near he was to breakin' down. That's why he is fwhat he
is. An' now"--Mulvaney yawned portentously, "Now I will go an' give myself
up for absince widout leave. It's eight an' twenty days an' the rough end
of the colonel's tongue in orderly room, any way you look at ut. But 'tis
cheap at the price."
"Mulvaney," said I, softly. "If there happens to be any sort of excuse
that the colonel can in any way accept, I have a notion that you'll get
nothing more than the dressing-down, The new recruits are in, and"--
"Not a word more, sorr. Is ut excuses the old man wants? Tis not my way,
but he shall have thim. I'll tell him I was engaged in financial
operations connected wid a church," and he flapped his way to cantonments
and the cells, singing lustily--
"So they sent a corp'ril's file,
And they put me in the gyard-room
For conduck unbecomin' of a soldier."
And when he was lost in the midst of the moonlight we could hear the
refrain--
"Bang upon the big drum, bash upon the cymbals,
As we go marchin' along, boys, oh!
For although in this campaign
There's no whisky nor champagne,
We'll keep our spirits goin' with a song, boys!"
Therewith he surrendered himself to the joyful and almost weeping guard,
and was made much of by his fellows. But to the colonel he said that he
had been smitten with sunstroke and had lain insensible on a villager's
cot for untold hours; and between laughter and good-will the affair was
smoothed over, so that he could, next day, teach the new recruits how to
"Fear God, Honor the Queen, Shoot Straight, and Keep Clean."