The Luck of the Mounted - A Tale of the Royal Northwest Mounted Police by Ralph S. Kendall
page 13 of 225 (05%)
page 13 of 225 (05%)
![]() | ![]() |
|
'night guard' catching you every third night and--"
"Oyez! oyez! oyez! you good men of this--" "Oh, yes! you can come the funny man all right, Mac--you've got a 'staff' job. Straight duty don't affect you. Why don't they shove me out on detachment again, and give me another chance to do real police work? . . . I tell you I'm fed up--properly. . . . I wish I was out of the blooming Force--I'm not 'wedded' to it, like you." "'Ear, 'ear!" chimed in Hardy, with a sort of miserable heartiness. McSporran's contribution was merely a dour Scotch grin. In the moment's silence that followed a tremendous bawling squall of wind rocked the building to its very foundations. The back-draught of it sucked open the door, and, borne upon its wings, the roaring, full-chorused burst of a popular barrack-room chantey floated up the stairs from the canteen below-- "_Old King Cole was a merry old soul, And a merry old soul was he-- He called for his pipe, and he called for his glass, And he called for his old M.P._" Outside the blizzard still moaned and howled; every now and then, between lulls, screeching gusts of sleet beat upon the windows. The parrot, clinging upside down to the roof of its cage, winked rapidly with Sphinx-like eyes and inclined its head sideways in an intent listening attitude. "Eyah! but th' Force's a bloomin' good home to some of you, all th' |
|