I came across him on the rim of the bog. He stood before a whitewashed cabin glaring fiercely over the brown world.
A coal-black dudeen hung empty and bottom up from his puckered mouth, a rumpled frieze cap was perilously balanced atop of a fringe of white hair. His full figure, upholstered in a worn velvet waistcoat, was thrust well forward as if daring Fate to hit it another blow.
At the moment he was acting as a scratching-post to a large white billy-goat, which chafed itself luxuriously to and fro against his straddled legs. At the sound of my horse's hoofs he turned his head. At the sight of my uniform his eyes brightened, he withdrew a smutty hand from a corduroy pocket and made a travesty of a salute towards his cap, which almost lost its balance.
"Hey! Good day to ye, Captain!" (I am a second lieutenant, but in Ireland every lance-corporal has visionary batons on his shoulder-straps.)
I replied suitably, agreed that the weather was fine for the second and trusted, if we were good, we might have an hour of it.
"How is it wid the War this mornin', yer honour?"
I replied that, as far as I knew, it was still there, had passed a quiet night and was doing nicely, thanks.
"Was you ever at the Front, Captain?"
I nodded, and at that his eyes gleamed.
"Begob!—then 'tis yerself has the luck. Wait till I tell you a minute. I'm afther wishin' be all the Blessed Saints I was twinty year younger, 'tis meself would be the first afther them German Daygoes—I would so, the dirthy, desthroyin' blagyards! Tell me now, Captain dear, did you ever kill wan of them at all?"
He hung on my answer to such an extent that the white billy tore a tatter from his canvas coat and ate it unrebuked.
I wagged my head. "Don't know—couldn't say."
"Och, shure, no! What would a grand gentleman like yourself be wantin' wid such dirthy work—'tis a common private's job, so it is. But was meself twinty year younger 'twould be a job I would take great delight in the doin' of it. I would take great delight in landin' wan o' them blagyards a puck wid a bay'net that would let the daylight through him. I would have great courage an' delight in a war wid such as they be, that's the blessed truth, the dirthy, desthroyin', murdherin' divils! Arragh! I hate them!"
He shook a grimy fist in the general direction of America, and the billy, undisturbed, reached up and ate another ribbon off his coat.
"Beggin' yer pardon, but will yer honour be goin' back to the War?"
I said I hoped so some day.
"Listen, then—I'm wishin' ye would kill a German, two Germans, d'ye hear me now? Two Germans I'm afther wishin' ye."
Again he brandished a trembling fist aloft and again the billy, fearing naught, grazed its way up his back.
"Thanks, very good of you," said I. "I'll remember. Good day."
"Good day it is, an' God save yer honour!"
Then with an overwhelming burst of generosity he promoted me two ranks at once and wished again.
"Colonel," he said solemnly, though shaking with passion, "I'm afther wishin' ye three—ten—fifteen Germans!"
"Thanks," I said again, and picked up the reins, wondering if tragedy had shadowed the bogside that morning, if some grey-eyed, black-haired boy would come home no more from Flanders to that whitewashed cabin.
As I turned a beshawled girl poked her head round the door lintel and smiled at me.
"Och, faith, don't be noticin' the granda', yer honour; himself was beyond to the town this mornin', an' they've riz the price o' porther on him wan ha'penny. He do be as mad as the Sivinteen Divils!"