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The Russians stood like men—they never failed to do that—and there was a rare bit of give-an'-take fightiug before we cleared them out.Up to the end they never turned, and our fellows had to pitchfork them out of the place like so many trusses of hay.That was the Thirtieth that was engaged that night.There was a young lieutenant in that corps, I disremember his name, but he was a terrible one for a fight.So at last the General, he would stand it no longer, so we dug a covering trenoh until we were within a hundred yards of them, and then waited for a dark night.
That's the one I served in towards the end of the war. It was a terrible thorn in our side, for you couldn't show your nose in our advanced works, but a bullet from the quarries would be through it.One after another I've forfeited them—my badges and my good service allowance and my pension, until they had nothing more to take rom me, and turned me adrift into tho world at forty-nine.I was wounded once in the trenches and once at Delhi, and this is what I got for it, just because I oouldn't keep away from drink.Perhaps it was thsa spirit of reconciliation which induced me to address the weather-beaten scarecrow in front of me, or perhaps it was that his resolute face and lean muscular figure attracted my curiosity."You don't seem much the better for it," I remarked.
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