Yet Jack o' the Smithies was not well content.

In him true Yorkshire stubbornness was multiplied by the dogged tenacity of a British soldier, and the aggregate raised to an unknown power by the efforts of shrewd ignorance; and at last the lawyer took occasion to say, "Master John Smithies, you are worthy to serve under the colors of a Yordas." "That I have, Sir, that I have," cried the veteran, taken unawares, and shaking the stump of his arm in proof; "I have served under Sir Duncan Yordas, who will come home some day and claim his own; and he won't want no covenants of me." "You can not have served under Duncan Yordas," Mr.Jellicorse answered, with a smile of disbelief, craftily rousing the pugnacity of the man; "because he was not even in the army of the Company, or any other army.
I mean, of course, unless there was some other Duncan Yordas." "Tell me!" Jack o' Smithies almost shouted--"tell me about Duncan Yordas, indeed! Who he was, and what he wasn't! And what do lawyers know of such things?
Why, you might have to command a regiment, and read covenants to them out there! Sir Duncan was not our colonel, nor our captain; but we was under his orders all the more; and well he knew how to give them.

Not one in fifty of us was white; but he made us all as good as white men; and the enemy never saw the color of our backs.

I wish I was out there again, I do, and would have staid, but for being hoarse of combat; though the fault was never in my throat, but in my arm." "There is no fault in your throat, John Smithies, except that it is a great deal too loud.

I am sorry for Sally, with a temper such as yours." "That shows how much you know about it.