“O’Hara gave no reason for fwhat he’d said, an’ all my roomful were too glad to inquire, tho’ he put his spite upon thim more wearin’ than before. Wan day, howiver, he tuk me apart very polite, for he cud be that at the choosin’.
“‘You’re a good sodger, tho’ you’re a damned insolint man,’ sez he.
“‘Fair words, Sargint,’ sez I, ‘or I may be insolint again,’
“’Tis not like you,’ sez he, ‘to lave your rifle in the rack widout the breech-pin, for widout the breech-pin she was whin Vulmea fired. I should ha’ found the break av ut in the eyes av the holes, else,’ he sez.
“‘Sargint,’ sez I, ‘fwhat wud your life ha’ been worth av the breech-pin had been in place, for, on my sowl, my life wud be worth just as much to me av I tould you whether ut was or was not. Be thankful the bullet was not there,’ I sez.
“‘That’s thrue,’ sez he, pulling his moustache; ‘but I do not believe that you, for all your lip, was in that business.’
“‘Sargint,’ sez I, ‘I cud hammer the life out av a man in ten minuts wid my fistes if that man dishpleased me; for I am a good sodger, an’ I will be threated as such, an’ whoile my fistes are my own they’re strong enough for all work I have to do. They do not fly back toward me!’ sez I, lookin’ him betune the eyes.
“‘You’re a good man,’ sez he, lookin’ me betune the eyes—an’ oh he was a gran’-built man to see!—‘you’re a good man,’ he sez, ‘an’ I cud wish, for the pure frolic av ut, that I was not a Sargint, or that you were not a Privit; an’ you will think me no coward whin I say this thing.’
“‘I do not,’ sez I. ‘I saw you whin Vulmea mishandled the rifle. But, Sargint,’ I sez, ‘take the wurrd from me now, spakin’ as man to man wid the shtripes off, tho’ ’tis little right I have to talk, me being fwhat I am by natur’. This time ye tuk no harm, an’ next time ye may not, but, in the ind, so sure as Slimmy’s wife came into the veranda, so sure will ye take harm—an’ bad harm. Have thought, Sargint,’ sez I. ‘Is ut worth ut?’
“‘Ye’re a bould man,’ sez he, breathin’ harrd. ‘A very bould man. But I am a bould man tu. Do you go your way, Privit Mulvaney, an’ I will go mine.’