_Hans Breitmann's Ballads._

'Mary, Mother av Mercy, fwhat the divil possist us to take an' kape
this melancolious counthry? Answer me that, Sorr.'

It was Mulvaney who was speaking. The time was one o'clock of a
stifling June night, and the place was the main gate of Fort Amara,
most desolate and least desirable of all fortresses in India. What I
was doing there at that hour is a question which only concerns M'Grath
the Sergeant of the Guard, and the men on the gate.

'Slape,' said Mulvaney, 'is a shuparfluous necessity. This gyard'll
shtay lively till relieved.' He himself was stripped to the waist;
Learoyd on the next bedstead was dripping from the skinful of water
which Ortheris, clad only in white trousers, had just sluiced over his
shoulders; and a fourth private was muttering uneasily as he dozed
open-mouthed in the glare of the great guard-lantern. The heat under
the bricked archway was terrifying.

'The worrst night that iver I remimber. Eyah! Is all Hell loose this
tide?' said Mulvaney. A puff of burning wind lashed through the
wicket-gate like a wave of the sea, and Ortheris swore.

'Are ye more heasy, Jock?' he said to Learoyd. 'Put yer 'ead between
your legs. It'll go orf in a minute.'

'Ah don't care. Ah would not care, but ma heart is plaayin'
tivvy-tivvy on ma ribs. Let me die! Oh, leave me die!' groaned the
huge Yorkshireman, who was feeling the heat acutely, being of fleshly
build.

The sleeper under the lantern roused for a moment and raised himself
on his elbow.--'Die and be damned then!' he said. '_I_'m damned and I
can't die!'

'Who's that?' I whispered, for the voice was new to me.

'Gentleman born,' said Mulvaney; 'Corp'ril wan year, Sargint nex'.
Red-hot on his C'mission, but dhrinks like a fish. He'll be gone
before the cowld weather's here. So!'

[Illustration: 'Put yer 'ead between your legs. It'll go orf in
a minute.'--P. 2.]

He slipped his boot, and with the naked toe just touched the trigger
of his Martini. Ortheris misunderstood the movement, and the next
instant the Irishman's rifle was dashed aside, while Ortheris stood
before him, his eyes blazing with reproof.

'You!' said Ortheris. 'My Gawd, _you_! If it was you, wot would _we_
do?'

'Kape quiet, little man,' said Mulvaney, putting him aside, but very
gently; ''tis not me, nor will ut be me whoile Dinah Shadd's here. I
was but showin' something.'

Learoyd, bowed on his bedstead, groaned, and