But whin I've served my time, I'm a Reserve man, an'
the Articles av War haven't any hould on me. An orf'cer can't do
anythin' to a time-expired savin' confinin' him to barricks. 'Tis
a wise rig'lation, bekaze a time-expired does not have any
barricks; bein' on the move all the time. 'Tis a Solomon av a
rig'lation, is that. I wud like to be inthroduced to the man that
made ut. 'Tis easier to get colts from a Kibbereen horse-fair into
Galway than to take a bad draf' over ten miles av counthry.
Consiquintly that rig'lation - for fear that the men wud be hurt
by the little orf'cer bhoy. No matther. The nearer my throlly came
to the rest-camp, the woilder was the shine, an' the louder was
the voice of Peg Barney. "Tis good I am here,' thinks I to mysilf,
'for Peg alone is employmint for two or three.' He bein', I well
knew, as copped as a dhrover.
"Faith, that rest-camp was a sight! The tent-ropes was all skew-
nosed, an' the pegs looked as dhrunk as the men - fifty av thim -
the scourin's, an' rinsin's, an' Divil's lavin's av the Ould
Rig'mint. I tell you, Sorr, they were dhrunker than any men you've
ever seen in your mortial life. How does a draf' get dhrunk? How
does a frog get fat? They suk ut in through their shkins.
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