“Did ye see annything av the war?”
“I did not,” said McDermott. “Divil a bit of ut, barrin' a lot o' racket an' a big roarin' divil av a stame-boiler thing that come bustin' through th' air an' took away the mules that was me passport. But I come near seein' some av ut, wan time.”
“An' how was it that ye come near it, an' missed it?” inquired Tim.
“I wint to slape,” said McDermott. “The war was slapin', an' I laid m'silf down b' the side av ut an' took a nap, too. Later, I woke up in the hospital, some wan havin' stipped on me whilst I was slapin', or somethin'. They was afther keep-in' me in th' hospital indefinite, an' I slipped away wan mornin', dodgin' the orderlies an' nurses, or I might have been there yet eatin' jelly an' gettin' me face washed f'r me. An' afther I got back here I thried to jine that war, but th' Amurrican Army w'u'd not have me.”
“And phwy not?”
“Because av me fut.”
“And how did ye hurt y'r fut?”
“Divil a bit do I know how,” said McDermott. “I'm tellin' ye 'twas done whilst I was aslape. I remimber gettin' soused in wan av thim Frinch barrooms, an' I w'u'd think it was a mule stipped on me fut whin I was slapin' off me souse, excipt that thim mules was gone before I got me souse.”
“An' ye saw naught av the war?” Tim was distinctly disappointed.
“But little of ut, but little of ut,” said McDermott. “But, Timmy,—wan thing I did whilst I was in France.”