"Begob!" said Kildare, ex-driver of Engine 123, who, with the Cardiff man,
his stoker of old, was doing duty at Fort Ellerslie _vice_ two Town
Guardsmen permanently resting, "'tis a great perfawrumance the Doc is
afther givin' as this day!" He coolly borrowed the gunner's
sighting-glasses, and, with his keen eyes glued to them and his ragged
elbows propped on the Fort parapet, he scanned the distant solitary
figure, dropping the words out slowly one by one. "Twice have I seen the
fur fly off av' wan av' thim hairy baboons av' Boers since he starrtud,
an' supposin' the air a taste thicker, 'tis punched wid bullet-holes we'd
be seem' ut all round 'um, the same as a young lady in the sky-in-terrific
dhressmakin' line would be afther jabbin' out the pattern av' a shoot av'
clothes."

"And look you now, if the man is not lighting a pipe," objected the
Cardiff stoker, whose religious tendencies were greatly fostered by the
surroundings and conditions of siege life. "Sitting on a stone, with the
rifle between his knees and the match between his two hands, as if the
teffel was got tired of waiting, and had curled up and gone to sleep." The
speaker sucked in his breath and solemnly shook his head, adding: "It is a
temptation of the Tivine Providence, so it is!"

"Sorra a timpt," rejoined Kildare, reluctantly surrendering the glasses to
the gunner, a grey ex-sergeant of R.F.A., "sorra a timpt, knowin', as the
Docthur knows, that do what he will and thry as he may, no bullut will do
more than graze the hide av him, or sing in his ear."

"And how will he know that, maybe you would be telling?" demanded the
Cardiff stoker incredulously.

"I seen his face," said Kildare, jerking a blackened thumb towards the
gunner's sighting-glasses, "minnits back through thim little jiggers, an'
to man or mortal that's as sick wid the hate av Life, an' as sharp-set
with the hunger for Death as the Docthur is this day, no harrum will come.
'Tis quare, but thrue."

"I've 'ad a try at several kinds of 'ungers," said the R.E. Reserve man,
who acted as gunner's mate. "There's the 'unger for glory, combined with a
smart uniform wot'll make the gals stare, as drives a man to 'list.
There's the 'unger for kisses an' canoodlin' wot makes yer want to please
the gals. There's the 'unger for revenge, wot drives yer to bash in a
bloke's face, and loses you yer stripes if 'e 'appens to be your Corp'ril.
Then there's the 'unger for gettin' under cover whe