Part 19 (1/2)

”He says _Nemoyah_!--not to give the bottles to Many Drunks, as when he gets full of _skutiawpwe_ he raises h.e.l.l on th' reserve, an' there's no livin' with him. Says he beats up his squaw an' starts in to scalp th'

dogs an' chickens.”

”Shtop ut!” bawled Slavin, ”d'ju hear, Yorkey? . . . shtoolin' th'

nitchie on tu commit a felony an' th' like, thataways!” He sniffed disgustedly. ”_Skutiawpwe_ an' squaws! . . . blarney me sowl! but ye've a quare idea av a josh. 'Tis a credit y'are tu th' Ould Counthry, an' no error. I do not wondher ye left ut.”

”Sh-s.h.!.+” said that gentleman soothingly, ”coa.r.s.ely put, Burke! coa.r.s.ely put! . . . Say Wine and Women, guv'nor! Wine and Women! If you were in India, Burke, they'd make you Bazaar-Sergeant--put you in charge of the morals of the regiment. Both items are all right--always providing you don't get a lady like Misthress Lee for a chaser. How'd you like to be in Nick's shoes? What 'shteps' would you take?”

Slavin stared at his tormentor, blankly, a moment. ”Shteps?” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed sharply, ”fwhat shteps?” . . . He leant back with a fervent sigh and softly rubbed his huge hands together. ”Long wans, avick! . . .

eyah, d----d long wans, begorrah!”

Many Drunks now realizing that he was merely the victim of a joke, scowled in turn upon Yorke. Muttering something to MacDavid he backed up against the wall and, squatting down, proceeded philosophically to fill his pipe.

”What's that he said?” queried Yorke of the interpreter, ”I couldn't catch it.”

The latter grinned. ”He says--of all the white men he's ever met in his time, Stamixotokon[1] and my self are the only ones he's ever known to tell th' truth.”

”It's my belief the beggar'd flirt with Mrs. Lee, himself, if he only got the chance” said Redmond laconically, ”d'you recollect that day he picked her parcel up for her--how nice she was to him?”

”Eyah,” said Slavin darkly, ”I remimber ut! That man”--he darted an accusing finger at Yorke--”wud thry tu come th' Don Jewan wid anything wid a shkirrt on--from coast to coast. _Flirrt_? Yeh're tellin' th'

trute, bhoy, yeh're tellin' th' trute! He'd a-made a good undhershtudy for ould n.o.bby Guy, down Regina.”

He settled himself comfortably and lit his pipe. ”Eyah, th' good ould days, th' good ould days!” he resumed reminiscently, between puffs, ”Hark now till I tell ye th' tale av ould n.o.bby!”

”Is that the man they used to Josh about, down Regina?” enquired Redmond.

”Used to say 'I'm a man of few words'?”

Slavin nodded affirmatively. ”That's him, Sarjint in charrge av th' town station he was--years back. This is--whin I was Corp'ril at headquarthers. A foine big roosther av a man was n.o.bby, wid a mighty pleasant way wid um--'specially wid th' ladies. Wan night--blarney me sowl! Will I iver forghet ut? n.o.bby 'phones up th' Gyard-room reporthin' th' Iroquois Hotel on fire, an' requestin' th' O.C. for a shquad av men tu help fight ut, an' kape th' crowd back. So down we wint, a bunch av us. It sure was a bad fire all right. No lives was lost, but th' whole shebang was burnt tu th' ground. Kapin' th' crowd back was our hardest job. Du fwhat we cud, we cud not make some av th'

silly fules kape back clear av th' danger-zone--wimmin an' all, bedad!

”By and by, a section av the wall tumbles an' quite a bunch av people got badly hurt--n.o.bby amongst thim. We dhragged thim out as quick as we cud an' laid them forninst th' wall av a buildin' near-by--awaithin' some stretcher-bearers. n.o.bby'd got his leg bruk, but he seemed chipper enough an' chewed th' rag wid us awhile. Next tu him was a wumman--cryin' something pitiful--she'd got her leg bruk, tu. n.o.bby rised him up on his elbow an' lukked at her.

”Now, 'tis powerful dhry wurrk, bhoys, fightin' fire, an' may be n.o.bby--well, I cannot account for ut otherwise--him havin' th' nerve' tu du' fwhat he did--onless p'raps 't'was just th' natch'ril tindher-hearthedness av th' man--thryin' for tu comfort her. Afther that wan luk tho', n.o.bby he 'comes tu th' halt,' so tu shpake, an' 'marks time' awhile considherin'--for becod, she was a harrd-lukkin ould case--long beyant mark av mouth.

”Presintly, sez he: 'I'm a man av few wurrds!--'tis of then I have kissed a _young_ wumman!'--an' he thwirls th' big buck moustache av um very slow--'fwhy shud I not kiss an ould wan? . . .'--_an' he did_. . . .

”That's how th' man's throuble shtarted. Brought ut all on umsilf.

Course at th' toime, fwhy! she slapped th' face av um an' called um all manner av harrd names--but, all th' same! she must have liked ut, for while they was convalescin' she was everlashtingly sendhin n.o.bby notes an' flowers an' such like. But for all that n.o.bby wud have no thruck wid her, for all she was a widder, well fixed--wid a house av her own an'

lashuns av money. Whin they was both out av hospital she was afther urn again, an' du fwhat he cud he cud not shake that wumman.

”Th' ind av ut was, n.o.bby reports sick, an' th' reg'minthal docthor, ould 'Knockemorf' Probyn, gives um th' wance over. He luks over some papers an' sez he: 'A change an' a rist is fwhat yu' need, Sarjint Guy. There's a dhraft leavin' next week for Hersch.e.l.l Island[2]--I think I will mark yu up fur ut.'

”'_Hersch.e.l.l Island_?' sez pore n.o.bby, an' wid that he let's out a howl.

”'Tut, tut!' sez ould Knockemorf, who was wise tu th' man's throuble.

'Tis safer off there'll yu'll be, man, than here, I'm thinkin'.'