help a Paythan I stud wid the muzzle contagious to the ear. They dare
not do anythin' but curse. The Tyrone was growlin' like dogs over a
bone that had been taken away too soon, for they had seen their dead
an' they wanted to kill ivry sowl on the ground. Crook tould thim that
he'd blow the hide off any man that misconducted himself; but, seeing
that ut was the first time the Tyrone had iver seen their dead, I do
not wondher they were on the sharp. 'Tis a shameful sight! Whin I first
saw ut I wud niver ha' given quarter to any man north of the
Khaibar--no, nor woman either, for the women used to come out afther
dhark--Auggrh!

'Well, evenshually we buried our dead an' tuk away our wounded, an'
come over the brow av the hills to see the Scotchies an' the Gurkeys
taking tay with the Paythans in bucketsfuls. We were a gang av dissolute
ruffians, for the blood had caked the dust, an' the sweat had cut the
cake, an' our bay'nits was hangin' like butchers' steels betune ur
legs, an' most av us were marked one way or another.

'A Staff Orf'cer man, clean as a new rifle, rides up an' sez: "What
damned scarecrows are you?"

'"A comp'ny av Her Majesty's Black Tyrone an' wan av the Ould Rig'mint,"
sez Crook very quiet, givin' our visitors the flure as 'twas.

'"Oh!" sez the Staff Orf'cer; "did you dislodge that Reserve?"

'"No!" sez Crook, an' the Tyrone laughed.

'"Thin fwhat the divil have ye done?"