Punch, or the London Charivari, Volume 153, July 11, 1917 by Various
page 19 of 54 (35%)
page 19 of 54 (35%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
minute," a voice shouted, suddenly frightened. "'Ere, this ain't war,
this is blasted baby-killin'." In another five seconds the whole line was up and jogging forward at a lurching double. "And a little child shall lead them," murmured the Colonel happily, as he put his best foot forwards; a miracle had happened, and his dear ruffians would go down in glory. But as they topped the hill crest came the shrill of a whistle from the opposite ridge, and there was half a battalion of the Rutlands back-casting for the enemy that had broken through their posts. With wild yells both parties charged downwards into the sunken road. When the tumult and shouting had died Patrick went in quest of the little Padre. He discovered him sitting on the wreck of his bivouac of the night; he was clasping some small article to his bosom, and the look in his face was that of a man who had found his heart's desire. Patrick sat himself down on a box of bombs, and looked humbly at the Reverend Paul. It is an awful thing for a man suddenly to find he has been entertaining a hero unawares. "Oh, Dicky Bird, Dicky Bird, why did you do it?" he inquired softly. The Padre cocked his head on one side and commenced to ooze apologies from every pore. "Oh dear--you know how absurdly absent-minded I am; well, I suddenly |
|