"Though, mind you," he resumed, "I haven't a bad word to fit to a
Frenchman. They're real good fighting stuff, an' they ain't arf the
light-'earted an' light-'eaded grinnin' giddy goats I used to take 'em
for."
"There wasn't much o' the light 'eart look about the Mong Cappytaine
to-night," said Robinson. "'Is eyes was snappin' like two ends o' a
live wire, and 'e 'andled them guns as business-like as a butcher
cutting chops."
"That's it," said 'Enery, "business-like is the word for 'em. I noticed
them 'airy-faces shootin' to-day. They did it like they was sent there
to kill somebody, and they meant doin' their job thorough an'
competent. Afore I come this trip on the Continong I used to think a
Frenchman was good for nothing but fiddlin' an' dancin' an' makin'
love. But since I've seen 'em settin' to Bosh partners an' dancin'
across the neutral ground an' love-makin' wi' Rosalie,[Footnote:
_Rosalie_--the French nickname for the bayonet.] I've learned better.
'Ere's luck to 'im," and he drained the mess-tin.
And the French, if one might judge from the story _mon capitaine_ had
to tell his major, had also revised some ancient opinions of their
Allies.
"Cold!" he said scornfully; "never again tell me these English are
cold. Children--perhaps. Foolish--but yes, a little.
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