hing on is an
ex_pay_rience. I pathrolled for tin minutes, an' begad, before 'twas
over, I blushed. The women laughed so. I niver blushed before or
since; but I blushed all over my carkiss thin. Orth'ris didn't
pathrol. He sez only, "Portsmith Barricks an' the 'Aard av a Sunday!"
Thin he lay down an' rowled any ways wid laughin'.

'Whin we was all dhressed, we counted the dead--sivinty-foive dacoits
besides wounded. We tuk five elephints, a hunder' an' sivinty Sniders,
two hunder' dahs, and a lot av other burglarious thruck. Not a man av
us was hurt--excep' maybe the Lift'nint, an' he from the shock to his
dasincy.

'The Headman av Lungtungpen, who surrinder'd himself, asked the
Interprut'r--"Av the English fight like that wid their clo'es off,
what in the wurruld do they do wid their clo'es on?" Orth'ris began
rowlin' his eyes an' crackin' his fingers an' dancin' a step-dance for
to impress the Headman. He ran to his house; an' we spint the rest av
the day carryin' the Lift'nint on our showlthers round the town, an'
playin' wid the Burmese babies--fat, little, brown little divils, as
pretty as picturs.

'Whin I was inviladed for the dysent'ry to India, I sez to the
Lift'nint, "Sorr," sez I, "you've the makin's in you av a great man;
but, av you'll let an ould sodger spake, you're too fond of
the-ourisin'." He shuk hands wid me and sez, "Hit high, hit low,
there's no plasin' you, Mulvaney. You've seen me waltzin' through
Lungtungpen like a Red Injin widout the war-paint, an' you say I'm too
fond av the-ourisin'?"--"Sorr," sez I, for I loved the bhoy; "I wud
waltz wid you in that condishin through _Hell_, an' so wud the rest av
the men!" Thin I wint downshtrame in the flat an' left him my
blessin'. May the Saints carry ut where ut should go, for he was a
fine upstandin' young orficer.

'To reshume. Fwhat I've said jist shows the use av three-year-olds.
Wud fifty seasoned sodgers have taken Lungtungpen in the dhark that
way? No! They'd know the risk av fever and chill. Let alone the
shootin'. Two hundher' might have done ut. But the three-year-olds
know little an' care less; an' where there's no fear, there's no
danger. Catch thim young, feed thim high, an' by the honour av that
great little man Bobs, behind a good orficer 'tisn't only dacoits
they'd smash wid their clo'es off--'tis Con-ti-nental Ar-r-r-mies!
They tuk Lungtungpen nakid; an' they'd take St. Pethersburg in their
dhrawers! Begad, they would that!

'H