I replied suitably, agreed that the weather was fine for the second and trusted, if we were good, we might have an hour of it.
"How is it wid the War this mornin', yer honour?"
I replied that, as far as I knew, it was still there, had passed a quiet night and was doing nicely, thanks.
"Was you ever at the Front, Captain?"
I nodded, and at that his eyes gleamed.
"Begob!—then 'tis yerself has the luck. Wait till I tell you a minute. I'm afther wishin' be all the Blessed Saints I was twinty year younger, 'tis meself would be the first afther them German Daygoes—I would so, the dirthy, desthroyin' blagyards! Tell me now, Captain dear, did you ever kill wan of them at all?"
He hung on my answer to such an extent that the white billy tore a tatter from his canvas coat and ate it unrebuked.
I wagged my head. "Don't know—couldn't say."
"Och, shure, no! What would a grand gentleman like yourself be wantin' wid such dirthy work—'tis a common private's job, so it is. But was meself twinty year younger 'twould be a job I would take great delight in the doin' of it. I would take great delight in landin' wan o' them blagyards a puck wid a bay'net that would let the daylight through him. I would have great courage an' delight in a war wid such as they be, that's the blessed truth, the dirthy, desthroyin', murdherin' divils! Arragh! I hate them!"
He shook a grimy fist in the general direction of America, and the billy, undisturbed, reached up and ate another ribbon off his coat.