would say, "God bless my boy, and absent friends."
"Say, old man," said Jack after a bit, "did you know I was married?"
"You—good God!—no."
"Begorra, then, it's a fact."
"Where's your wife?"
"Devil a bit of me knows. Somewhere South, I think."
"You think! Scissors, man, if I'd a wife—I'm thinking, I'd know."
"Yes—happen you would," and his hand wandered towards Kaiser.
A log of wood, burnt through in the middle, fell in two upon the fire, sending up a cloud of smoke and sparks.
"Curse the smoke!" and turning away his head for a moment, Jack wiped his eyes with the rough sleeve of his shirt.
"If you don't know where she is, old man," I said, "what did you do it for?"
It was at this point Jack spoke the opening sentences of this story.
I handed him the billy, and lifting off the lid, he took a drink of the stuff inside; we called it tea.
I knew, if I waited, he'd tell me all the story, for we were true mated, and his bothers were mine, as much as mine were his. He took a pipe from the leather pouch on his belt and filled it. Getting it fairly alight he lay along with his face to the fire, and began.
"Harry, old man, it's often a smiling face that hides a sick heart—mine does. What did I do it for? Well, it was this way you see. I was a born fool—from the first—darned if I wasn't a fool for being born; but that wasn't a matter of choice with me—if it had been, expect I'd have done something else more foolish.
