*'Take  note,"  said  he,  when  he  had  won  his
holiday  and  appeared  dressed  in  his  roughest
clothes  with  the  only  other  regimental  fowl-
ing-piece in  his  hand — "take  note,  Jock,  an'  you,
Orth'ris,!  am  goin'  in  the  face  av  my  own  will —
all  for  to  please  you.  I  misdoubt  anythin'  will
come  avpermiscuous  huntin'  afther  peacockses
in  a  disolit  Ian' ;  an'  I  know  that  I  will  lie  down
an'  die  wid  thirrst.  Me  catch  peacockses  for
you,  ye  lazy  scuts — an'  be  sacrificed  by  the
peasanthry. ' '

He  waved  a  huge  paw  and  went  away.
At  twilight,  long  before  the  appointed  hour,
he  returned  empty-handed,  much  begrimed
with  dirt.
"Peacockses?"  queried  Ortheris,  from  the
safe  rest  of  a  barrack-room  table,  whereon  he
was  smoking  crossed-legged,  Learoyd  fast
asleep  on  a  bench.
"Jock,"  said  Mulvaney,  as  he  stirred  up  the
sleeper.     "Jock,  can  ye  fight?     Will  ye  fight?"

Very  slowly  the  meaning  of  the  words  com-
municated itself  to  the  half-roused  man.  He
understood — and  again — what  might  these
things  mean?  Mulvaney  was  shaking  him
savagely.      Meantime    the    men   in  the   room


INCARNATION  OF  MULVANEY.  67

howled  with  delight.  There  was  war  in  the
confederacy  at  last — war  and  the  breaking  of
bonds.
Barrack-room  etiquette  is  stringent.  On  the
direct  challenge  must  follow  the  direct  reply.
This  is  more  binding  than  the  tie  of  tried
friendship.  Once  again  Mulvaney  repeated
the  Gfuestion.  Learoyd  answered  by  the  only
means  in  his  power  and  so  swiftly  that  the
Irishman  had  barely  time  to  avoid  the  blow.
The  laughter  around  increased.  Learoyd
looked  bewilderedly  at  his  friend — himself  as
greatly  bewildered.  Ortheris  dropped  from
the  table.      His  world  was  falling.
