Be Saint Patrick, the black one's a thrump anyhow! She looks for all the world like them bewtiful crayoles of Dimmerary." Saying this, he turned suddenly round, and commenced driving his bayonet furiously into the dead cayman, exclaiming between the thrusts: "Och, ye divil! bad luck to yer ugly carcase! You're a nate-looking baste to interfere with a pair of illigant craythers! Be the crass! he's all shill, boys.

Och, mother o' Moses! I can't find a saft spot in him!" We climbed out upon the parapet, and the soldiers commenced wiping their wet guns.
Clayley appeared at this moment, filing round the pond at the head of the detachment.

As I explained the adventure to the lieutenant, he laughed heartily.
"By Jove! it will never do for a despatch," said he; "one killed on the side of the enemy, and on ours not a wound.

There is one, however, who may be reported `badly scared'." "Who ?" I asked.
"Why, who but the bold Blossom ?" "But where is he ?" "Heaven only knows! The last I saw of him, he was screening himself behind an old ruin.

I wouldn't think it strange if he was off to camp-- that is, if he believes he can find his way back again." As Clayley said this, he burst into a loud yell of laughter.
It was with difficulty I could restrain myself; for, looking in the direction indicated by the lieutenant, I saw a bright object, which I at once recognised as the major's face.
He had drawn aside the broad plantain-leaves, and was peering cautiously through, with a look of the most ludicrous terror.