At that I tuk Love-o'-
Women by the scruff an' threw him under
a bowlder, an' whin I sat down I heard the bullets patterin' on
that good stone.
"'Ye may dhraw your own wicked fire,' I sez, shakin' him, 'but I'm
not goin' to be kilt too.'
"Ye've come too soon,' he sez. 'Ye've come too soon. In another
minute they cud not ha' missed me. Mother av God,' he sez, 'fwhy
did ye not lave me be? Now 'tis all to do again,' an' he hides his
face in his hands.
"'So that's it,' I sez, shakin' him again. 'That's th manin' av
your disobeyin' ordhers.'
"'I dare not kill meself,' he sez, rockin' to and fro. 'My own
hand wud not let me die, and there's not a bullet this month past
wud touch me. I'm to die slow,' he sez. 'I'm to die slow. But I'm
in hell now,' he sez, shriekin' like a woman. 'I'm in hell now!'
"'God be good to us all,' I sez, for I saw his face. 'Will ye tell
a man the throuble. If 'tis not murder, maybe we'll mend it yet.'
"At that he laughed. 'D'you remimber fwhat I said in the Tyrone
barricks about comin' to you for ghostly consolation. I have not
forgot,' he sez. 'That came back, an' the rest av my time is on me
now, Terence. I've fought ut off for months an' months, but the
liquor will not bite any more, Terence,' he sez.
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