THE LONDON SCOTTISH.

Taihape Daily Times, Volume 7, Issue 170, 23 March 1915, Page 2

THE LONDON SCOTTISH.

A SMALL JOB. m "Rot tins for a small job,” mut' ay etl Anderson, of the London Scottish. "Rot this—Fes, sir—your ’re (trout- L’ ’ And he began to hum with sr • go humour:— I wouldn’t leave my little woocler ’ o.t for you! I'd stay the whole damn night jr "at you through!

Then the two indicators fell at . ee, and before the clamouring officers were satisfied there was a fierce demand to know why in the name of thunder ?nd blazes—and why this, that, ah 1 vha other. Anderson set his teeth upon ;> r’jd ig temper, and mentally registered a sow to take it out of the wooden hat---;he nob] telephone exchange—if ever -. *>• portunity offered. ‘•’Made in Germany!” he growLi to himself. “What’s that?” came over rle wires. “Sorry, sir,” said Aside, sea; “your’re through.” He dived in one pocket- for r« y v -]h.;y packet containing two crumpled c’gari ottes, very precious. What few matches he had left were in another pocket, and before he could get at one of them three little indicators were down sg.'n, and he was chanting the monotonous ‘‘ Through! .\yovr 'ro. through! Line an* gaged—wait a moment, pier sc. . . . . Fes, sir.” And ho sighed: “Oh, rot this for a small job T came out her® to shoot, not to stuff pegs In a way board.” His left hand was groping for ft match agaim, in a pocket full of olds and ends. A curious daydream wad upon him, and there was no energy left for the finding of matches. ThA- is whet he sr.v;The railway stHiou st h.s I,’ lilacc —a small country town fo-ming a ’•ranch line to a siring <,* liag —. ■•vss. snowed up. The ].];■ tfoms v rr» (hick ;mj white. Heavy w p-;es of -mow- lay upon the roofs. O.u* train stoc-1 there amongst the s’-ow. I, ■■.lf buried, 'l ire traiif was empty, a dead thing, and all the windows of the carriages wore broken. Far awrv q !f > horizon l-\v in a grey mist risi'ig into brown clouds, lowering and omino us, jud suddenly a red streak leaped into on* cloud, fell again, and then vr-?e up pul spread. The first village of those served by the branch line was in flam--*. Anderson felt the blood tinge in h ; s cm pies at the sight. But there was worse. On Ms Jer»-» hot many yards away—there was a crimson stain on the snow, and a up ray*. liKg body with hand outstretched towards a rifle. He turned übc-ur, rudr to see hm own home a surd aider! tig. ruin, a blackened skeleton against white snow. Then Anderson solemnly cursed the enemy who had done this thing, and fell to wondering why ho stood there' alone, watching, doing nothing. “A small job,” he though'.. The expression brought him back ro the present. Five indicators vceii down, and h's left hand found, a match. Ho l.t lus. cigarette and flung; t; 9 spoilt match 0.. t ■ «>f the hut. It land*-! on muddy grass, beaten and tramp!*-. 1, Then it was a matter of quick finp r work and a few apologetic words. ‘Through—you’re through—sorry, rr —can’t get a reply —Yes, hero you are, Th rough! ”■■ -S . /■’ A And with the cigarette between lag lips he hummed his ditty, less savage* ly, less humourously, iwth -more .detjpfe n : nat!on-=— I wc- kln’t IcrYe ray Hillo wooden but far you! M st-y the '■•’•ole damn night to put you through! He had a vague idea that his sm:'l ob was going to help in putting nomy through-—“through the hoop’* -and began to think the game morg ■orth the candle. But his fingers had tendency to crook themselves upon n imaginary rifle, and they were vjfc iways gentle with the thirty- y vitchboard.