"What's the matter, Giles?" said he to one of the officers, who had stopped
the soldiers as they were moving off with their burden,--"what is it?"

"I have been cutting the white tape off his arm; for if he sees it on
waking, he'll remember all about the storming."

"Quite right--thoughtfully done!" said the other; "but who is to lead his
fellows? He was in the forlorn hope."

"I'll do it," cried I, with eagerness. "Come, O'Shaughnessy, you'll not
refuse me."

"Refuse you, boy!" said he, grasping my hand within both of his, "never!
But you must change your coat. The gallant Eighty-eighth will never mistake
their countryman's voice. But your uniform would be devilish likely to get
you a bayonet through it; so come back with me, and we'll make you a Ranger
in no time."

"I can give your friend a cap."

"And I," said the other, "a brandy flask, which, after all, is not the
worst part of a storming equipage."

"I hope," said O'Shaughnessy, "they may find Maurice in the rear.
Beauclerc's all safe in his hands."

"That they'll not," said Giles, "you may swear. Quill is this moment in the
trenches, and will not be the last man at the breach."

"Follow me now, lads," said O'Shaughnessy, in a low voice. "Our fellows are
at the angle of this trench. Who the deuce can that be, talking so loud?"

"It must be Maurice," said Giles.

The question was soon decided by the doctor himself, who appeared giving
directions to his hospital-sergeant.

"Yes, Peter, take the tools up to a convenient spot near the breach.
There's many a snug corner there in the ruins; and although we mayn't have
as good an operation-room as in old 'Steevens's,' yet we'll beat them
hollow in cases."

"Listen to the fellow," said Giles, with a shudder. "The thought of his
confounded thumbscrews and tourniquets is worse to me than a French
howitzer."

"The devil a kinder-hearted fellow than Maurice," said O'Shaughnessy, "for
all that; and if his heart was to be known this moment, he'd rather handle
a sword than a saw."

"True for you, Dennis," said Quill, overhearing him, "but we are both
useful in our way, as the hangman said to Lord Clare."

"But should you not be in the rear, Maurice?" said I.

"You are right, O'Malley," said he, in a whisper; "but, you see, I owe the
Cork Insurance Company a spite for making me pay a gout premium, and that's
the reason I'm here. I warned them at the time that their stinginess would
come to no good."

"I sa