bucket, an' as thin as a girl's waist. There was over-many Paythans
for our convaynience in the gut, an' begad they called thimselves a
Reserve--bein' impident by nature! Our Scotchies an' lashins av Gurkeys
was poundin' into some Paythan rig'mints, I think 'twas. Scotchies an'
Gurkeys are twins bekaze they're so onlike an' they get dhrunk together
whin God plazes. As I was sayin', they sint wan comp'ny av the Ould
an' wan of the Tyrone to double up the hill an' clane out the Paythan
Reserve. Orf'cers was scarce in thim days, fwhat with dysintry an' not
takin' care av thimselves, an' we was sint out wid only wan orf'cer
for the comp'ny; but he was a Man that had his feet beneath him, an'
all his teeth in their sockuts.'

'Who was he?' I asked.

'Captain O'Neil--Old Crook--Cruikna-bulleen--him that I tould ye that
tale av whin he was in Burma.
[Footnote:
Now first of the foemen of Boh Da Thone
Was Captain O'Neil of the Black Tyrone.
_The Ballad of Boh Da Thone._] Hah!
He was a Man! The Tyrone tuk a little orf'cer bhoy, but divil a bit
was he in command, as I'll dimonstrate presintly. We an' they came
over the brow av the hill, wan on each side av the gut, an' there was
that ondacint Reserve waitin' down below like rats in a pit.

'"Howld on, men," sez Crook, who tuk a mother's care av us always.
"Rowl some rocks on thim by way av visitin' kyards." We hadn't rowled
more than twinty bowlders, an' the Paythans was beginnin' to swear
tremenjus, whin the little orf'cer bhoy av the Tyrone shqueaks out
acrost the valley:--"Fwhat the devil an' all are you doin', shpoilin'