noncoms. Go you over there, Mulvaney,
an' be Deputy-Sergeant, Corp'ral, Lance, an' everything else ye
can lay hands on till I bid you stop.'

"'I wint over an' tuk hould. There was wan sergeant left standin',
an' they'd pay no heed to him. The remnint was me, an' 'twas high
time I came. Some I talked to, an' some I did not, but before
night the bhoys av the Tyrone stud to attention, begad, if I
sucked on my poipe above a whishper. Betune you an' me an' Bobs, I
was commandin' the company, an' that was what Cruik had
thransferred me for, an' the little orf'cer bhoy knew ut, and I
knew ut, but the comp'ny did not. And there, mark you, is the
vartue that no money an' no dhrill can buy - the vartue av the
ould soldier that knows his orf'cer's work an' does ut - at the
salute!

"Thin the Tyrone, wid the Ould Rig'mint in touch, was sint
maraudin' and prowlin' acrost the hills promishcuous an'
unsatisfactory. 'Tis my privit opinion that a gin'ral does not
know half his time fwhat to do wid three-quarthers his command. So
he shquats on his hunkers an' bids thim run round an' round
forninst him while he considhers on ut. Whin by the process av
nature they get sejuced into a big fight that was none av their
seekin', he sez: 'Obsarve my shuparior janius! I meant ut to come
so.' We ran round an' about, an' all we got was shootin' into the
camp at night, an' rushin' empty sungars wid the long bradawl, an'
bein' hit from behind rocks till we was wore out - all except
Love-o'-Women. That puppy-dog business was mate an' dhrink to him.
Begad, he cud niver get enough av ut. Me well knowin' that it is
just this desultorial campaignin' that kills the best men, an'