“Will you tell us about the ghost-fight if I do?” I said.
“Is ut the shtory that’s troublin’ you? Av course I will. I mint to all along. I was only gettin’ at ut my own way, as Popp Doggle said whin they found him thrying to ram a cartridge down the muzzle. Orth’ris, fall away!”
He released the little Londoner, took back his pipe, filled it, and his eyes twinkled. He has the most eloquent eyes of any one that I know.
“Did I iver tell you,” he began, “that I was wanst the divil of a man?”
“You did,” said Learoyd, with a childish gravity that made Ortheris yell with laughter, for Mulvaney was always impressing upon us his great merits in the old days.
“Did I iver tell you,” Mulvaney continued, calmly, “that I was wanst more av a divil than I am now?”
“Mer—ria! You don’t mean it?” said Ortheris.
“Whin I was Corp’ril—I was rejuced aftherward—but, as I say, whin I was Corp’ril, I was a divil of a man.”
He was silent for nearly a minute, while his mind rummaged among old memories and his eye glowed. He bit upon the pipe-stem and charged into his tale.
“Eyah! They was great times, I’m ould now; me hide’s wore off in patches; sinthrygo has disconceited me, an’ I’m a married man tu. But I’ve had my day—I’ve had my day, an’ nothin’ can take away the taste av that! Oh my time past, whin I put me fut through ivry livin’ wan av the Tin Commandmints between Revelly and Lights Out, blew the froth off a pewter, wiped me moustache wid the back av me hand, an’ slept on ut all as quiet as a little child! But ut’s over—ut’s over, an’ ’twill niver come back to me; not though I prayed for a week av Sundays. Was there any wan in the Ould Rig’mint to touch Corp’ril Terence Mulvaney whin that same was turned out for sedukshin? I niver met him. Ivry woman that was not a witch was worth the runnin’ afther in those days, an’ ivry man was my dearest frind or—I had stripped to him an’ we knew which was the betther av the tu.