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Harte, Bret, 1836-1902

"Condensed Novels: New Burlesques"


"Dear old Sparkley," she said sweetly; "he WAS a champion liar!"

II.
A PRIVATE'S HONOR

I had not seen Mulledwiney for several days. Knowing the man--this
looked bad. So I dropped in on the Colonel. I found him in deep
thought. This looked bad, too, for old Cockey Wax--as he was known
to everybody in the Hill districts but himself--wasn't given to
thinking. I guessed the cause and told him so.
"Yes," he said wearily, "you are right! It's the old story.
Mulledwiney, Bleareyed, and Otherwise are at it again,--drink
followed by Clink. Even now two corporals and a private are
sitting on Mulledwiney's head to keep him quiet, and Bleareyed is
chained to an elephant."
"Perhaps," I suggested, "you are unnecessarily severe."
"Do you really think so? Thank you so much! I am always glad to
have a civilian's opinion on military matters--and vice versa--it
broadens one so! And yet--am I severe? I am willing, for
instance, to overlook their raid upon a native village, and the
ransom they demanded for a native inspector! I have overlooked
their taking the horses out of my carriage for their own use. I am
content also to believe that my fowls meekly succumb to jungle
fever and cholera. But there are some things I cannot ignore. The
carrying off of the great god Vishnu from the Sacred Shrine at
Ducidbad by The Three for the sake of the priceless opals in its
eyes"--
"But I never heard of THAT," I interrupted eagerly.


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