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Page 53
"Now, 'tis powerful dhry wurrk, bhoys, fightin' fire, an' may be
Nobby--well, I cannot account for ut otherwise--him havin' th' nerve' tu
du' fwhat he did--onless p'raps 't'was just th' natch'ril
tindher-hearthedness av th' man--thryin' for tu comfort her. Afther that
wan luk tho', Nobby he 'comes tu th' halt,' so tu shpake, an' 'marks
time' awhile considherin'--for becod, she was a harrd-lukkin ould
case--long beyant mark av mouth.
"Presintly, sez he: 'I'm a man av few wurrds!--'tis of then I have kissed
a _young_ wumman!'--an' he thwirls th' big buck moustache av um very
slow--'fwhy shud I not kiss an ould wan? . . .'--_an' he did_. . . .
"That's how th' man's throuble shtarted. Brought ut all on umsilf.
Course at th' toime, fwhy! she slapped th' face av um an' called um all
manner av harrd names--but, all th' same! she must have liked ut, for
while they was convalescin' she was everlashtingly sendhin Nobby notes
an' flowers an' such like. But for all that Nobby wud have no thruck wid
her, for all she was a widder, well fixed--wid a house av her own an'
lashuns av money. Whin they was both out av hospital she was afther urn
again, an' du fwhat he cud he cud not shake that wumman.
"Th' ind av ut was, Nobby reports sick, an' th' reg'minthal docthor, ould
'Knockemorf' Probyn, gives um th' wance over. He luks over some papers
an' sez he: 'A change an' a rist is fwhat yu' need, Sarjint Guy. There's
a dhraft leavin' next week for Herschell Island[2]--I think I will mark
yu up fur ut.'
"'_Herschell Island_?' sez pore Nobby, an' wid that he let's out a howl.
"'Tut, tut!' sez ould Knockemorf, who was wise tu th' man's throuble.
'Tis safer off there'll yu'll be, man, than here, I'm thinkin'.'
"He was shtandin' by th' Gyard-room gate that day-week whin th' dhraft
marched out on their way tu enthrain--Nobby amongst thim. 'Good-bye,
Docthor!' he calls out, tears in th' eyes av um, ''Tis sendhin me tu me
grave y'are, God forgive yez!'
"'Nonsince!' shouts Knockemorf. 'Say yeh prayers an' kape yeh bowils
opin, me man, an' ye will take no harrm!'
"Some sind-off! well!--time wint on, an' wan day I gets a letther from me
ould friend, Ginger Johnson, who was stationed there tu, tellin' me all
th' news. Nobby, sez he, was doin' fine, fat as a hog, an' happy as a
coon in a melun patch. Wan day, sez he, a buck av th' name av Wampy
Jones comes a runnin' inta th' Post, wid th' face av a ghost an' th' hair
av um shtickin shtraight up. Said a Polar bear'd popped out forninst a
hummock an' chased um--like tu th' tale av Morley, here. Nobby, sez
Johnson, on'y grins at th' man, an' sez he: 'That's nothin'!' An' thin
he shtarts in tellin' thim all 'bout this widder at Regina."
[1] Note by Author--The late Colonel Macleod, who for many years was
Commissioner of the R.N.W.M. Police. He was greatly respected and
trusted by all the Indian tribes.
[2] Note by Author--This island is in the Arctic Circle. The most
northerly post of the R.N.W.M. Police.
CHAPTER XI
Methought I heard a voice cry,
"Macbeth shall sleep no more!"
MACBETH
The sergeant's story evoked a general laugh from his hearers. He arose
and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. "Come on, bhoys!" said he.
"Let's beat ut. Morley here's a respectable married man--we've bin
demoralisin' him an' his store long enough, I'm thinkin'."
Pocketing his packet of mail he and his subordinates stepped to the door,
MacDavid casually following them outside. Tethered to the hitching-post,
they noticed, were the team of scare-crow cayuses belonging to Sun Dog
and Many Drunks.
"Poor beggars look as if a turn-out on the range wouldn't do them any
harm," remarked Redmond.
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