Part 38 (2/2)

”I am learning you all,” said the priest, ”names, regiments, and numbers is it not? I dare not put them on paper: I have been searched three times already, even to my shoes. But I hope that my chance will come before long. Then I will send them to your War Office.” He beamed down on Jim so hopefully that it seemed rather likely that he would find a private telegraph office of his own, suddenly. ”Now I will learn your name and regiment.” He repeated them several times, nodding his head.

”Yes, that is an easy one,” he said. ”Some of them are very terrible, to a Frenchman; our friend here”--he looked quaintly at Callaghan--”has a name which it twists the tongue to say. And now, my son, I would like to examine you, since you are conscious. I am the only doctor--a poor one, I fear. But perhaps we will find out together that there is nothing to be uneasy about.”

That, indeed, was what they did find out, after a rather agonizing half-hour. Jim was quite unable to move his legs, being so bruised that there was scarcely a square inch of him that was not green and blue and purple. One hip bore the complete impress of a foot, livid and angry.

”Yes, that chap jumped on me from a good height,” Jim said when the _cure_ exclaimed at it. ”I thought he had smashed my leg.”

”He went near it,” said the _cure_. ”Indeed, my son, you are beaten to a jelly. But that will recover itself. You can breathe without pain? That is well. Now we will look at the head.” He unwrapped the bandages and felt the lump tenderly. ”Ah, that is better; a little concussion, I think, _mon brave_; it is that which kept you so quiet when you stayed with us at first. And the cut heals well; that comes of being young and strong, with clean, healthy blood.” He bathed the head, and replaced the bandages, sighing that he had no clean ones.

”But with you it matters little; you will not need them in a few days.

Then perhaps we will wash these and they will be ready for the next poor boy.” He smiled at Jim. ”Move those legs as much as you can, my son, and rub them.” He trotted away.

”And that same is good advice,” said Callaghan. ”It will hurt to move, sir, and you beaten to a pulp first and then stiffening for the three days you're after lying here; 'tis all I wish I could rub you, with a good bottle of Elliman's to do it with. But if them Huns move you 'twill hurt a mighty lot more than if you move yourself.

Themselves is the boys for that; they think they've got a feather in their caps if they get an extra yelp out of annywan. So do the best you can, sir.”

”I will,” said Jim--and did his best, for long hours every day. It was weary work, with each movement torture, and for a time very little encouragement came in the shape of improvement: then, slowly, with rubbing and exercise, the stiffened muscles began to relax. Callaghan cheered him on, forgetting his own aching leg in his sympathy for the boy in his silent torment. In the intervals of ”physical jerks,” Jim talked to his little neighbour, whose delight knew no bounds when he heard that Jim knew and cared for his country. He himself was a Cork man, with a wife and two sons; Jim gathered that their equal was not to be found in any town in Ireland. Callaghan occasionally lamented the ”foolishness” that had kept him in the Army, when he had a right to be home looking after Hughie and Larry. ”'Tis not much the Army gives you, and you giving it the best years of your life,” he said.

”I'd be better out of it, and home with me boys.”

”Then you wouldn't let them go to the war, if they were old enough?”

Jim asked.

”If they were old enough 'twould not be asking my liberty they'd be,”

rejoined Mr. Callaghan proudly. ”Is it _my_ sons that 'ud shtand out of a fight like this?” He glared at Jim, loftily unconscious of any inconsistency in his remarks.

”Well, there's plenty of your fellow-countrymen that won't go and fight, Cally!” said the man beyond him--a big Yorks.h.i.+reman.

”There's that in all countries,” said Callaghan calmly. ”They didn't all go in your part of the country, did they, till they were made?

Faith, I'm towld there's a few there yet in odd corners--and likely to be till after the war.” The men round roared joyfully, at the expense of the Yorks.h.i.+reman.

”And 'tis not in Ireland we have that quare baste the con-sci-en-tious objector,” went on Callaghan, rolling the syllables lovingly on his tongue. ”That's an animal a man wouldn't like to meet, now! Whatever our objectors are in Ireland, they're surely never con-sci-en-tious!”

Jim gave a crack of laughter that brought the roving grey eye squarely upon him.

”Even in Australia, that's the Captain's country,” said the soft Irish voice, ”I've heard tell there's a boy or two there out of khaki--maybe they're holding back for conscription too. But wherever the boys are that don't go, none of them have a song and dance made about them, barring only the Irish.”

”What about your Sinn Feiners?” some one sang out. Callaghan's face fell.

”Yerra, they have the country destroyed,” he admitted. ”And nine out of every ten don't know annything about politics or annything else at all, only they get talked over, and towld that they're patriots if they'll get howld of a gun and do a little drilling at night--an'

where's the country boy that wouldn't give his ears for a gun! An'

the English Gov'mint, that could stop it all with the stroke of a pen, hasn't the pluck to bring in conscription in Ireland.”

”You're right there, Cally,” said some one.

”I know well I'm right. But the thousands and tens of thousands of Irish boys that went to the war and fought till they died--they'll be forgotten, and the Sinn Fein sc.u.m'll be remembered. If the Gov'mint had the pluck of a mouse they'd be all right. I tell you, boys, 'twill be the Gov'mint's own fault if we see the haythin Turks parading the fair fields of Ireland, with their long tails held up by the Sinn Feiners!” Callaghan relapsed into gloomy contemplation of this awful possibility, and refused to be drawn further. Even when Jim, desiring to be tactful, mentioned a famous Irish V.C. who had, single-handed, slain eight Germans, he declined to show any enthusiasm.

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