Were they not dogs, evilly treated? had they not
all their own and their national revenges to satisfy? Who in these
days would do aught to nine hundred men in rebellion? Who, again,
could stay them if they broke for the sea, licking up on their way
other regiments only too anxious to join? And afterwards . . .
here followed windy promises of gold and preferment, office and
honour, ever dear to a certain type of Irishman.
As he finished his speech, in the dusk of a twilight, to his
chosen associates, there was a sound of a rapidly unslung belt
behind him. The arm of one Dan Grady flew out in the gloom and
arrested something. Then said Dan -
"Mulcahy, you're a great man, an' you do credit to whoever sent
you. Walk about a bit while we think of it." Mulcahy departed
elate. He knew his words would sink deep.
"Why the triple-dashed asterisks did ye not let me belt him'?"
grunted a voice.
"Because I'm not a fat-headed fool. Boys, 'tis what he's been
driving at these six months - our superior corp'ril with his
education and his copies of the Irish papers and his everlasting
beer. He's been sent for the purpose, and that's where the money
comes from. Can ye not see? That man's a gold-mine, which Horse
Egan here would have destroyed with a belt-buckle.
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