'“Have ye not all got spoons?” he sez, laughin', an' down we wint as fast as we cud. Learoyd bein' sick at the Base, he, av coorse, was not there. 'Thot's a lie!' said Learoyd, dragging his bedstead nearer. 'Ah gotten _thot_ theer, an' you knaw it, Mulvaney.' He threw up his arms, and from the right armpit ran, diagonally through the fell of his chest, a thin white line terminating near the fourth left rib. 'My mind's goin',' said Mulvaney, the unabashed. 'Ye were there. Fwhat I was thinkin' of! 'Twas another man, av coorse. Will, you'll remember thin, Jack, how we an' the Tyrone met wid a bang at the bottom an' got jammed past all movin' among the Paythans.' 'Ow! It _was_ a tight 'ole. I was squeezed till I thought I'd bloomin' well bust,' said Ortheris, rubbing his stomach meditatively. ''Twas no place for a little man, but _wan_ little man'--Mulvaney put his hand on Ortheris's shoulder--'saved the life av me. There we shtuck, for divil a bit did the Paythans flinch, an' divil a bit dare we; our business bein' to clear 'em out. An' the most exthryordinar' thing av all was that we an' they just rushed into each other's arrums, an' there was no firing for a long time. Nothin' but knife an' bay'nit when we cud get our hands free: an' that was not often. We was breast-on to thim, an' the Tyrone was yelpin' behind av us in a way I didn't see the lean av at first. But I knew later, an' so did the Paythans. '“Knee to knee!” sings out Crook, wid a laugh whin the rush av our comin' into the gut shtopped, an' he was huggin' a hairy great Paythan, neither bein' able to do anything to the other, tho' both was wishful. '“Breast to breast!” he sez, as the Tyrone was pushin' us forward closer an' closer. '“An' hand over back!” sez a Sargint that was behin'. I saw a sword lick out past Crook's ear, an' the Paythan was tuk in the apple av his throat like a pig at Dromeen fair. '“Thank ye, Brother Inner Guard,” sez Crook, cool as a cucumber widout salt. “I wanted that room.” An' he wint forward by the thickness av a man's body, havin' turned the Paythan undher him. The man bit the heel off Crook's boot in his death-bite. '“Push, men!” sez Crook. “Push, ye paper-backed beggars!” he sez. “Am I to pull ye through?” So we pushed, an' we kicked, an' we swung, an' we swore, an' the grass bein' slippery, our heels wouldn't bite, an' God help the front-rank man that wint down that day!' ''Ave you ever bin in the Pit hentrance o' the Vic, on a thick night?' interrupted Ortheris. 'It was worse nor that, for they was goin' one way an' we wouldn't 'ave it. Leastways, I 'adn't much to say.' 'Faith, me son, ye said ut, thin. I kep' the little man betune my knees as long as I cud, but he was pokin' roun' wid his bay'nit, blindin' an' stiffin' feroshus. The devil of a man is Orth'ris in a ruction--aren't ye?' said Mulvaney.