Soldiers Three | Page 7

a large English ironclad. There were two men with me; the
three of us began to yell. A man on the ship sings out, 'Can you climb
on board if we throw you a rope?' They weren't going to let down a fine
new man-of-war's boat to pick up three half-drowned rats. We accepted
the invitation. We climbed--I, the engineer, and the ship's boy. About
half an hour later the fog cleared entirely; except for the half of the boat
away in the offing, there was neither stick nor string on the sea to show
that the Hespa had been cut down."
'And what do you think of that now?' said the man from Saigon.

PRIVATE LEAROYD'S STORY
And he told a tale. --Chronicles of Gautama Buddha.
FAR from the haunts of Company Officers who insist upon
kit-inspections, far from keen-nosed Sergeants who sniff the pipe
stuffed into the bedding-roll, two miles from the tumult of the barracks,
lies the Trap. It is an old dry well, shadowed by a twisted pipal tree and
fenced with high grass. Here, in the years gone by, did Private Ortheris
establish his depot and menagerie for such possessions, dead and living,
as could not safely be introduced to the barrack-room. Here were
gathered Houdin pullets, and fox-terriers of undoubted pedigree and
more than doubtful ownership, for Ortheris was an inveterate poacher
and pre-eminent among a regiment of neat-handed dog-stealers.
Never again will the long lazy evenings return wherein Ortheris,
whistling softly, moved surgeon-wise among the captives of his craft at
the bottom of the well; when Learoyd sat in the niche, giving sage
counsel on the management of 'tykes,' and Mulvaney, from the crook of
the overhanging pipal, waved his enormous boots in benediction above
our heads, delighting us with tales of Love and War, and strange
experiences of cities and men.
Ortheris--landed at last in the 'little stuff bird-shop' for which your soul
longed; Learoyd--back again in the smoky, stone-ribbed North, amid
the clang of the Bradford looms; Mulvaney--grizzled, tender, and very
wise Ulysses, sweltering on the earthwork of a Central India line--judge
if I have forgotten old days in the Trap!
Orth'ris, as allus thinks he knaws more than other foaks, said she wasn't
a real laady, but nobbut a Hewrasian. I don't gainsay as her culler was a
bit doosky like. But she was a laady. Why, she rode iv a carriage, an'
good 'osses, too, an' her 'air was that oiled as you could see your faice
in it, an' she wore dimond rings an' a goold chain, an' silk an' satin
dresses as mun 'a' cost a deal, for it isn't a cheap shop as keeps enough
o' one pattern to fit a figure like hers. Her name was Mrs. DeSussa, an't'

waay I coom to be acquainted wi' her was along of our Colonel's
Laady's dog Rip.
I've seen a vast o' dogs, but Rip was t' prettiest picter of a cliver
fox-tarrier 'at iver I set eyes on. He could do owt you like but speeak,
an' t' Colonel's Laady set more store by him than if he hed been a
Christian. She hed bairns of her awn, but they was i' England, and Rip
seemed to get all t' coodlin' and pettin' as belonged to a bairn by good
right.
But Rip were a bit on a rover, an' hed a habit o' breakin' out o' barricks
like, and trottin' round t' plaice as if he were t' Cantonment Magistrate
coom round inspectin'. The Colonel leathers him once or twice, but Rip
didn't care an' kept on gooin' his rounds, wi' his taail a-waggin' as if he
were flag-signallin' to t' world at large 'at he was 'gettin' on nicely,
thank yo', and how's yo'sen?' An' then t' Colonel, as was noa sort of a
hand wi' a dog, tees him oop. A real clipper of a dog, an' it's noa
wonder yon laady. Mrs. DeSussa, should tek a fancy tiv him. Theer's
one o' t' Ten Commandments says yo' maun't cuwet your neebor's ox
nor his jackass, but it doesn't say nowt about his tarrier dogs, an'
happen thot's t' reason why Mrs. DeSussa cuvveted Rip, tho' she went
to church reg'lar along wi' her husband who was so mich darker 'at if he
hedn't such a good coaat tiv his back yo' might ha' called him a black
man and nut tell a lee nawther. They said he addled his brass i' jute, an'
he'd a rare lot on it.
Well, you seen, when they teed Rip up, t' poor awd lad didn't enjoy
very good 'elth. So t' Colonel's Laady sends for me as 'ad a naame for
bein' knowledgeable about a dog, an' axes what's ailin' wi' him.
'Why,' says I, 'he's getten