STORIES FROM THE BATTLE FRONT

Dominion, Volume 10, Issue 3123, 29 June 1917, Page 6

STORIES FROM THE BATTLE FRONT

♦ THE TWENTY FRANC NOTE (By Patrick Mnegill, author of "Tlio Groat Push.") [The following vivid sketch of humanilj- at the front, by Mr. Patrick Miicgill, "the navvy poet," is authorised for publication by the British Press Bureau, and forwarded on by tho S-oyal Colonial Institute.*] The sentry, Rifleman Mick Favnagh, pecied tensely into tho gloom of the night, holding his right hand over his eyes. Nobody in eight. The raid was surely at an end now, and it was time for the men to come back. Of course, as there was some shelling and no end of machine-gun fire, there would be a few casualties. "1 trust to God, not many. , ' said Aliek ■Ifariingh. He raised his rifle, rested it on the parapet, and fixed his eyes on a group of men whicli took shape on tho levels of No Man's Laud.' "Halt! Who goes there?" he culled in a loud whisper. "It's us," ii voice replied. "STer dollit Ihink we're bloomin' AUemongs, d'yerf"

The men came closer, and tlm«e in front cliunberwl over the parapet and entered the trench. The last man lo arrive halted for a moment, aud placed something large, ungainly, and awkward on tho ground. The something grunted aud groaitfd as it was laid down. It was ii. wounded man. ■ "'Who is it?" asked the sentry. The bearer coughed wearily. "It's old Tight. .. . Old Tom," he said. " 'E's got it in the chest. A inaehine-giin." "Bad?" asked the sentry. ■ "Not -=o bad," ciuue the answer in a dry whisper. " 'B'H be "pme in Blighty in a week." "I'll not be 'ome iu a week, said the wounded man faintly. "I'll never go 'om'e again. T-feel it's all up wiv me, for I got it. right i'roo tho lung." "You'll be alright, man." said the stretcher-bearer. "Wait till we got you into the dug-out, and then 1 can dress you up and give you something to drink. ■That will brafie you up.'"' " ■ Tlift stretcher-bearer came into the trench, a'il. assisted by willing hands, he brought the wounded man ovei; the parapet. J oil placed him on tho lire-step. The sentrl bent over the limp figure. "How are ye feelin' now?" he asked. "Oh! It's near the end," Tom replied in a cliolcina voice, "f'm. so cold. . It doesn't take much to knock a miui of forty-three out ... and two kids at home." Mick Farnagh. whose turu of sentry duty was at a.n end, benl; down and helped the stretcher-bearer to lift the man. Between them they enrried him into an adjacent dug-out, and placed him on the floor close to a glowing brazier. I.ho sentry .unbuttoned the man's leather jerkin, 'and the stretcher-bearer produced a first field dressing. "Ye'llv be as warm as a toast in a minute," said Farnagh. "And ye'l! betaken down to the dressin' station after ye've had a bit iv a rest. , Once there, ye'll be as right a.= rain in no time" When the dressing was apnhetl, Jlick took off his own overcoat and placed it over the wounded man. "That's not so bad," said Tom in a. calm voice. 'Im sorry to be such a trouble to von, but could I get something to drink?" They gave him a little water mixed with rum. and Tom drank with an effort: then' he began to speak in a low, quiet voice, weighing every word- as one might do when sending a telegram. "It's not that I mind goin' West,' he eaid. "So many have done that. < But it's the woman and the two tide at 'nme.

... I wasn't as ready wiv my money as many o' you boys have bceu. . . . Ole Tight Fist you used to call me. Bui: I needed all my money, for we had very littlo away back in England, and every franc that I could save was needed. Prices "'ave gone up so at 'ome, and every penny was'wanted. So ■- 1 saved and saved. lilimey! It's not easy to do much on five francs a week. . . . Ofconrso, there's the allotment, but prices have goue up so. . .;. I'm glad I sot It makes things .easier, 'a.ving as 1 ave, twenty francs in my pocket. . . That s got to go" 'ome. You'll find it. in the top left-'and pocket o' my tunic, Micky, a twenty-franc note rolled up in a little purse. Look and.-see .. . and give me another drink. . . . I'm sorry to trouble you all so much. ..." Jlick Farnagh bent down, unbuttoned the flap, of the pocket, put his hand id, and brought out a little leather purse. He looked at it for a second, then turned to the brazier as if to cxamino it by ii better light. "My eyes are full ot sleep and I cannot soe right," he said in a, strangely apologetic voice. "Yes, its all: right," ho continued. "Twenty tranc note it is, and what's to be done with it? Send it home, or put it back in. yer pocket, so that ye can hand it over yeriolf whon yo get back?" " "Me gettin'" back," said Tom, in a choking voice. "It's no good; it's all up wiv me. ... I feel. . . . Send her the twenty franc note. . . . The address.

. . . Tell*her that 1 didn't 'ave lio pain when I died. . . . That . . . Good-bye, matey."

Then lie lay quite still. Old Tight Fist was dead. .Hick Kuruagk gazed at the. limp body for an instant, than he looked at the purse which he held in his hand, and his eyes turned to the occupants of the dug-out. "Tills is a funny thing, boys," lie said; "this twinty franc note. . . . It's . . . But come out Into the trincii, and we'll talk it over."

The men followed him out, and Mick Farnagh went up on tlie lirestep and faced them.

"It's like this, boys," he said. "1. didn't want to speak about it inside, over the body of the dead man. God rest him! The twinty franc note is not much good, for it was curled up into a kind-iv a ball iu Tom's purse, and the bullet went right .through it, rippin' it. shameless. Thin tlio blood came out on it, so it's hard to say whether it's a note or a bit iv a first field-dressing that has been picked up off the Jloor of a dressing-station. "It can't be sent to the man's wife, aud wliat are we to do? Fol , me owu part I would suggest a collection to make up the amount next payday, and thin we could sind it off. . . .

Seeiii"' that he was a mate iv otirs, it is the ouly rhias we ran — welt do. What d'ye suy?"

"Tt's the wily —— thing lo be done, :aid the men in one voice.

And the filing was done. Though their language wns not above reproach the net of generosity wus grand, and both were well in keeping with the traditions of that noble body of men that makes (treat Ksrht in the trenches of France—the British Expeditionary Force.

HOME HAYED FfiOM I)RL\'K. "Our home wae saved from a downfall anil we can only thank 'Drii.iko' for it. Only two packets were used." So writes a Uunedrn wife Tfundred? of similar k-tleiv on file. Write for free booklet, with copies and full detail- of this wonderful secret drink fine. Address, l.ady ilanujjej , , Drinko Proprietary, 2126 Lmnbton Quay, Wellington.—-Advt.

KLT-KKELO means snre death to flies, cockroach §>s, buss, fleas, mosquitoes, house niothe. chicken lice, garden pests, *nd many other insects. Perfectly harmless to children and nets: Used through■uit the Dominion. Packed by Britishers, tTsod extensively by our hoy , ) at the Front. Obtainable at all Chemists and Crrowirs. Price ls.--Advt. v

The property aml business of Jtt'ssrp. A. It. Atkinson and Co.. produce mercliants, Fcildine, has been bouglit, liy the Xinv /ealaud Parmers' Co-niieralivi! Distributing Coy., Ltd., Wellington, and in iViw avail!)bU; Jior Hie coiivenienci' or I'linnl.s in that locality.

A grazing aild fattoninc property of 12fiS ncrcß nearjlie Wairoa FreexiiiK Works is .-iilvijrtiswl for sale by ilessrs. Williams nml Kettle. Ltd.. Nanier.

The last week or the winter sale of .Matliewsons, Ltd., is uiiuounced. llilliu«ry. costumes, coats, blouses, gowns, neckwear, and other lines have been greatly reduced, anil all tin; goods marked down must be cleared. The selection of fur and rain coats is worth inspection, as they are modelled on the latest, styles. The blouse department contain!! many beautiful things for sale, and the other departmniita arc being cleared in readiness for Die woods nf the coining Alison. An inbjbccUou is invited.