Northern Wisconsin advertiser. [volume] (Wabeno, Wis.) 1898-1925, 1918-12-20

lawnce corporal In the Royal Irish
Rifles"
According to Stewards look, that
Tommy should have Immediately
dropped dead.
Turning to the next, he said, "Cur-
ly.' for the love o. Mike, who Is her"
Curly, with knowing look. an
swered, "'E runs the Kings Arms
public 'ouse, down Rye lane"
With piteous look, Stewart
glanced my way and jerked my
thumb In the direction Of the other
Tommy, who seemed to be bursting
with suppressed eagerness. Stewart,
looking at him, calculated, "Spit 1t
out before you choke"
This fellow, with superior afr,
| turned in the direction of the two de-
| jected Tommies, and answered, "John
MacGraw, why everybody knows i'm;
e WAS the fellow in the London Scot
fish who clicked 'crucifxion' for
stealing the rum issue at 'Wipers'. e
was lad, not 'arf he weren't"
A kissing noise issued from Stew
arts lips, and he seemed to collapse
like a punctured toy balloon. After
a few seconds he Strengthened up and
look of determination came into his
eyes. Addressing the TOmmies, he
exploded: you blokes are enough to
make Billy Sunday take to drink. Now,
listen here, and let it sink in deep.
John McGraw is the manager. of the
New York Giants. He is q baseball
player; get 1t? A baseball player. A
guy what manages a baseball team.
And any fellows who can't make good
he sends 'em cricket bat with their
name inscribed on it and pays their
passage to England. Get me?"
Several Tommies took exception to
this, and said that they had followed
cricket all their lives, but had never
heard Of any American cricketers be-
ing sent over by Mr.. McGraw., At
this exploded, and Stewart went up
in the air. Standing up and turning
to the bunch under the trees, point
ing his finger in their direction, he
let out:
"Now listen, this is good. I'm go
ing to send down to the ordnance
corps and get dozen gimlets and
some tunnels. With these gimletS I'm
going to bore holes in your 'nappers,'
and using the funnel I'm going to pour
into those garrets of yours little
brains. Then, after you've acquired
gray matter, I'm going to teach you
the great American game of baseball (;
and then when through teaching you,
I'm going to retire to the Old Soldiers
home as physically and mentally I'M
fit, because I know the job will put
me there"
The Tommies did not take excep-
ton to his pointed remarks about their
lack of brains. They overlooked this
because they were very eager to learn
how to play baseball.
A chorus of, $50 to hit, Yank, that's
what we want; something new out
ere in this bloody mess of mud and
Coolies"
Stewart said that we would have to
talk the matter over, and reckoning
billet. followed. He then outlined
his scheme.
We were to form two baseball
classes, Stewart in charge Of one,
| the other. On the plaster of the billet
we carefully scratched out a baseball
diamond, and then called the Tommies
| in. They sat around like little chill
dren in school, eagerly intent. For
! two hours we explained the game to
them. When we got through they all
knew how to play baseball-on paper.
We dismissed them, telling them an
| other class would be held the follow
ing afternoon. That night, Stewart
and I, around the stump of candle,
went into details for organizing two
teams. Everything appeared rosy, and
we were highly jubilant. A Tommy
eased over in our direction and inno-
Gently asked:
81 sye, Yank. isn't it necessary to
ave byseballs and clubs? We cawn't
very well ply without EN-"
This was a bombshell to us. In our
eagerness and excitement we had quite
forgotten that bats, balls and gloves
were necessary. I thought Stewart
was going to burst. Letting out swell.
I'll be bowed - which nearly blew the
candle out, he turned a silly look in
my direction, and looked just as
cheap.
At last the Tommies had stumped
us, and we could see our reputation
| fading into nothing. A dead silence
reigned for over five minutes. Then
Stewart started madly to open his hav-
ersack. I thought he had suddenly
gone crazy. I reached my hand in the
direction of my bayonet, fearing that
he was looking for a Mills bomb.
When he drew his hand out, hanging
to his fist was a writing pad. let go
of my bayonet. Borrowing a pencil
from me (Stewart was always borrow
ing), he started writing. thought per-
hapS he was going to commit suicide
and was writing farewell letter home,