Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1890-08-30
CHAPTER III.

The hot season, in which they protested no
man could rebel, came to an end, and Mulcahy
| suggested q visible return for his teachings
As to the actual upshot Of the mutiny he cared
nothing. 1t would be enough if the English,
| infatuatedly trusting to the integrity of their
army, should be startled with news of an Irish
regiment revolving from political considera-
| tions. His persistent demands would have
ended, at Dams instigation in regimental
betting which. in all probability. would have
killed him and cut off the supply of beer, had
he not been sent on special duty some 90
miles away from the cantonment to cool his
heels in O mud fort and dismount obsolete
artillery. Then the colonel of the Mavericks,
reading his newspaper diligently, and seeming
| frontier trouble from afar, posted to the army
headquarters and pleaded with the commander
in-chief for certain privileges, to be granted
under certain contingencies, which contin-
gencies came about only a week later when the
| annual little war on the border developed
itself and the colonel returned to carry the
good news to the Mavericks. He held the
promise of the chief for active service, and the
men must get ready.
On the evening of the same day Mulcahy,
an unconsdered corporal-yet grand in con-
spiracy-returned to cantonments, and heard
| sounds Of strife and hovlings from afar of.
The mutiny had broken out and the barracks
OF the Mavericks were one white-washed pam
demonium. A private tearing through the
Active service. It's burnin' shame" Oh,
Joy, the Mavericks had risen on the eve of
batte They would not-noble and loyal sons
Of 1reland-serve the queen longer. The news
would flash through the country side and over
to England and he-Mulcahy-.h trusted of
the Third Three had brought about the crash.
The private stood in the middle of the square
and cursed colonel, regiment, officers and doc
tor. particular the doctor, by his gods. An
orderly Of the native cavalry regiment clattered
through the mob Of soldiers. He was half
lifted, half dragged from his horse, beaten on
the back with mighty hand claps till his eyes
watered, and called all manner of endearing
names; Yes, the Mavericks had fraternized
with the native troops. Who then was the
agent among the latter that had blindly
wrought with Mulcahy SO well?
An officer skunk, almost ran, from the mess
to the barrack. He was mobbed by the infur-
ated soldery who closed round but did not kill
him, for he fought his way to shelter, flying for
the life Mulcahy could have wept with pure
Joy and thankfulness. The very prisoners in
the guard room we're shaking the bars Of their
cells and bowling like wild beasts and from
every barrack poured the booming as of q big
war drum.
Mulcahy fastened to his own barrack. He
could hardly hear himself speak. Eighty men
wei g pounding with fist and heel the tables and
trestles-eighty men flushed with mutny,
stripped to their shirt sleeves, their knapsacks
half packed for the march to the sea, made the
two-inch boards thunder again as they chanted
to tune that Mulcahy knew well, the sacred
war song of the Mavericks:
Listen in the north my boys. there's trouble on the
Tramp q Cossact hooves in front. gray sreat-coats
Trouble on the frontier Of mos, smazn' kind.
Then, as q table broke under the furious 40
compartments:
Hurrah! hurrah it's north by west we go;
Hurrah! hurrah! the chance we wanted SO;
"a Monaov.
Aswe 20 marching to the Kremlng.
"Mother Of all the saints in bliss and all the
devils in cinders, where's my fine new sock
widout the heel?" howled Horse Egan, ran