'Slape,' said Mulvaney, 'is a shuparfluous necessity. This gyard'll
shtay lively till relieved.' He himself was stripped to the waist;
Learoyd on the next bedstead was dripping from the skinful of water
which Ortheris, clad only in white trousers, had just sluiced over his
shoulders; and a fourth private was muttering uneasily as he dozed
open-mouthed in the glare of the great guard-lantern. The heat under
the bricked archway was terrifying.

'The worrst night that iver I remimber. Eyah! Is all Hell loose this
tide?' said Mulvaney. A puff of burning wind lashed through the
wicket-gate like a wave of the sea, and Ortheris swore.

'Are ye more heasy, Jock?' he said to Learoyd. 'Put yer 'ead between
your legs. It'll go orf in a minute.'

'Ah don't care. Ah would not care, but ma heart is plaayin' tivvy-tivvy
on ma ribs. Let me die! Oh, leave me die!' groaned the huge
Yorkshireman, who was feeling the heat acutely, being of fleshly build.

The sleeper under the lantern roused for a moment and raised himself
on his elbow.--'Die and be damned then!' he said. '_I_'m damned and
I can't die!'

'Who's that?' I whispered, for the voice was new to me.

'Gentleman born,' said Mulvaney; 'Corp'ril wan year, Sargint nex'.
Red-hot on his C'mission, but dhrinks like a fish. He'll be gone before
the cowld weather's here. So!'