Women wud stay pottin’ an’ pottin’ from behind a

rock, and wait till the fire was heaviest, an’ thin stand up an’ fire man-height clear, He wud lie out in camp too at night, snipin’ at the shadows, for he never tuk a mouthful av slape. My commandin’ orf’cer—save his little soul '—cud not see the beauty av my strategims, an’ whin the Ould Rig’mint crossed us, an’ that was wanst a week, he'd throt off to Crook, wid his big blue eyes as round as saucers, an’ lay an information against me, I heard thim wanst talkin’ through the tent- wall, an’ I nearly laughed.

'"He runs—runs like a hare,” sez the little orf’cer bhoy. “Tis demoralisin’ my men.”

'"¥e damned little fool,” sez Crook laughin’. “He's Jarnin’ you your business. Have ye been rushed at night yet?”

'"No,” sez that child; wishful he had been.

'"Have you any wounded ?” sez Crook.

'"No,” he sez. “There was no chanst for that. They follow Mulvaney too quick,” he sez.

'"Fwhat more do you want, thin?” sez Crook. “Terence is bloodin’ you neat an’ handy,” he sez. “He knows fwhat you do not, an’ that’s that there's a time for ivrything. He'll not lead you wrong,” he sez, “but I’d give a month’s pay to larn fwhat he thinks av you.”

‘That kept the babe quiet, but Love-o'- Women was pokin’ at me for ivrything I did, an’ specially my manceuvres.

'"Mr, Mulvaney,” he sez wan evenin’, very con- tempshus, “you're growin’ very jeldy on your feet. Among gentlemen,” he sez, “among gentlemen that’s called no pretty name.”