Connecticut western news., 1903-04-16

| 1t struck one 0f the JOhnnfes and knocked | hil dOlnll.
 let man git back, Scatter now, roight am lift. Coppyral Frost, would yeZ moind givin' me that arm ay moineT' What in''- began. Mick opened
 three middle buttons of his jacket and said softly-the first time I had ever
 heard a soft note in the nutmeg grater
 voice of Mick McTwyny:
 Its been around me swateheart.
 If Ofm kilt, Ord loike 1t buried wid
 me"
 Twas no time for ceremony, yet 1 bowed twice, first to the arm, then to it's owner, as Mick thrust the fragment of himself into the front of his jacket. and he and made way to the left un- der cover of the fence.
 The skirmishers came on in fine style, fixing bayonets as they ran. We after ward learned that they had supposed the way clear and had merely come to
 make assurance doubly sure. They soon found themselves in error and the next few minutes were uncomfortable in the extreme for all concerned. Shoot ing at men at short pistol range is de pressing work unless the shooter Is
 drunk. Shooting-any man in the back is unmanly work. To fire into the
 backs of brave soldiers for whom you
 know that fathers and mothers and
 brothers and sisters and sweethearts and wives and children are longing and
 hoping and praying is not doing as you
 would be done by. But war is war.
 Besides, not all our shots took effect.
 Revolver shots seldom do except when
 men are never out of practice. I beg ged Mick to save his own revolver
 charge for self defense. but he snarled
 at the suggestion. Then I reminded
 him that an empty revolver would do
 some effective work if held by the bar
 rel and used as a hammer. When the pistol firing began to slacken, Sergeant Mick shouted.
 Don't fergit the fince railsi Glory be
 to the poikes av auld Oirelandr' | A fence rail could not be yielded with
 one hand, but Mick did not seem em- | barrassed. He thrust his empty re
 volver into his belt and fought with his
 uninjured arm, the winner in many a | fist fight He did wonders at lodging, ] tripping and '-slugging" as he ran to
 and fro near the fence to head of such
 gray skirmislrers as might attempt to
 fall back. l, with my fence rail, fol-
 lowed him closely and succeeded in
 preventing some awkward situations, I for the reach of an arm does not equal
 that of musket with a bayonet on 1t. ' When either of us downed a man, Mick | followed with a vigorous kick below I the belt. The kicks were brutal, but it was Mick's duty to hold the line of that i, fence. The odds were heavily against
 him. and he was obliged to use any and | all means within reach.
 Fighting with fence rails as weapons | was new to us, but we took to it kind fy. We had to. They demanded a lot
 of free space, which was not always to be had, for the tree trunks would not get out of our way, and some of us came | to grief while downed by our weapons
 having collided with trees. Once
 rushed to Brainard's assistance, sup
 posing him in deadly peril. for two of | the few remaining Johnnies closed on | him with their bayonets ready to lunge. But Brainard turned like a teetotum.
 holding his rail horizontally. It struck | one of the Johnnies and knocked him | down. In an instant Brainard jumped | and landed with both feet on the stom-
 ach of the fallen man. He also said, '1 beg your pardon" but the fallen
 mans reply was couched in language
 unfit for publication. Then Brainards
 rail struck the other man below the belt. and he, too, fell Sergeant Mick
 saw the encounter and screamed: "Hooray, Brainard! Ye little dhivilr
 I'll thrain ye up to the loightweight
 championship av Amer!ky whin we
 git back to Summerton.''
 About this time there was a visible scarcity of Johnnies in fighting trim. In fact, there was but one-the only of ficer who seemed to be with the party
 He had an eye like hawk and had dashed to and fro as rapidly as if try ing to learn our number and resources Suddenly it occurred to him that he. had done and learned all in his power
 and that it was time to return. I tried to head him off and bring my rail to bear upon him. At the same moment Mick roared:
 ''Grab their muskets an their ammy-
 milton, Git back to the fince an foire wid 'em as fast as yez kin! NiveI
 moind aimin'. but make all the noise yez kin, so they'll think we've cleaned
 out their .skirmishers an are beginnin'