I thought a good deal, but it seemed better then to reach out for Mulvaney's hand. The demonstration nearly cost me the use of three fingers. Whatever he knows of his weaknesses, Mulvaney is entirely ignorant of his strength. "But what do you think?" he repeated, as I was straightening out the crushed fingers. My reply was drowned in yells and outcries from the next fire, where ten men were shouting for "Orth'ris," "Privit Orth'ris," "Mistah Or--ther--ris!" "Deah boy," "Cap'n Orth'ris," "Field-Marshal Orth'ris," "Stanley, you pen'north o' pop, come 'ere to your own comp'ny!" And the cockney, who had been delighting another audience with recondite and Rabelaisian yarns, was shot down among his admirers by the major force. "You've crumpled my dress-shirt 'orrid," said he, "an' I shan't sing no more to this 'ere bloomin' drawin'-room." Learoyd, roused by the confusion, uncoiled himself, crept behind Ortheris, and slung him aloft on his shoulders. "Sing, ye bloomin' hummin' bird!" said he, and Ortheris, beating time on Learoyd's skull, delivered himself, in the raucous voice of the Ratcliffe Highway, of this song:-- My girl she give me the go onst, When I was a London lad, An' I went on the drink for a fortnight, An' then I went to the bad. The Queen she give me a shillin' To fight for 'er over the seas; But Guv'ment built me a fever-trap, An' Injia give me disease. _Chorus._ Ho! don't you 'eed what a girl says, An' don't you go for the beer; But I was an ass when I was at grass, An' that is why I'm here. I fired a shot at a Afghan, The beggar 'e fired again, An' I lay on my bed with a 'ole in my 'ed, An' missed the next campaign! I up with my gun at a Burman Who carried a bloomin' _dah_, But the cartridge stuck and the bay'nit bruk, An' all I got was the scar. _Chorus._ Ho! don't you aim at a Afghan When you stand on the sky-line clear; An' don't you go for a Burman If none o' your friends is near. I served my time for a corp'ral, An' wetted my stripes with pop, For I went on the bend with a intimate friend, An' finished the night in the "shop." I served my time for a sergeant; The colonel 'e sez "No! The most you'll see is a full C.B." [1] An' ... very next night 'twas so. [Footnote 1: Confined to barracks.] _Chorus._ Ho! don't you go for a corp'ral Unless your 'ed is clear; But I was an ass when I was at grass, An' that is why I'm 'ere. I've tasted the luck o' the army In barrack an' camp an' clink, An' I lost my tip through the bloomin' trip Along o' the women an' drink. I'm down at the heel o' my service An' when I am laid on the shelf, My very wust friend from beginning to end By the blood of a mouse was myself! _Chorus_.