AN AWFUL BATTLE.

New Zealand Graphic, Volume XXIV, Issue XXIV, 16 June 1900, Page 1151

AN AWFUL BATTLE.

(By S. WALTER NORRIS.) "Would you give roe a penny to see an awful battle?" A fine question for two boys to hurl, after bursting into one's studio. "Please do. papa." “Do what, you rascals?" demanded the papa, swinging round from his easel and assuming his most interrupted look. "Give us a pennv to see an awful battle." "Ob. I begin to understand." the papa said, very gravely, at the same time trying to rub the twinkle out of I.is eve's. "Well. yes. Off with your eoats and pitch in. 1 suppose the one who comes out best gets the penny." At this point the papa very foolishly judged that all the twinkle had been rubbed out and left off rubbing, and of course when he found his mistake there was nothing to do but hand over the penny. “Thank you.’’ the interrupters said, as they attempted to scamper away. But this was a wide awake papa, who liked to have his money's worth, and so he called out: “Hold on there. How about that battle?" The two scamps halted by the door. "You didn't think we were going to cheat, did you?" one asked, reproachfully. “Soldiers don't cheat." "Oh. don't they?" said the papa, raising his eyebrows at this piece of information. "We'll. Captains don't, anyhow, and weTe Captains. The battle isn't ready to commence yet." "No." the other said. "When the battle’s commencing we re going to ring the dinner bell." “1 guess." observed the papa, reflectively. “I'll trust you this time. Send a corporal's guard for me when the battle is getting ready to rage." Now this papa sometimes did more thinking than was suspected, and he did not have to overhaul his memory more than two or three times to recall that only a short while before each of these two captains had managed, through his persuasive ability, to be placed in charge of n leaden army, and he recklesstiy fancied he could predict just the sort of battle he bad paid his money to witness. There would be row after row of brave “tin” soldiers, through whose ranks spring cannons would hurl dried pea cannon balls. But there was one fact which this papa entirely overlooked—that the inodes of warfare are ever being improved—and so when at length he was escorted to a seat by the garden walk he was not a little surprised to find before him two paper forts, cut and pasted into shape, and really quite pictnr-

esque with their watercolour decorations. “I*m the English captain,** announced one of the officers. “And I’m the Boer,** the other said. The forts, situated about a yard apart, contained the respective garrisons. with here and there a head peeping above the ramparts, and each had its particular flag floating from a tiny st a ff. “Do you think it’s perfectly proper for the commanders of opposing garrisons to associate so freely?*’ asked the papa. You see after having paid his money, he did not want to run any chances of a treaty of peace. “Oh. that’s all right,” the English Captain hastened to assure. “We’re not enemies yet. We have to draw a big ring around the forts.” “A-ring-around-a-rosy?”inquired the papa, who seemed bent on gathering all the information he could. "No. no. It’s something like a golden pavement. The captains must stay outside the line.” “Oh. I see.” the papa said, with a great show of wisdom. “It’s a sort of a dandy line.” When the circle had been drawn each of the commanders produced from his pocket a rubber ball, and these were filled with water at the fountain. This seemed to puzzle the papa very much, but he wrinkled his brows and said nothing. The cannons and a handful of peas next came to view. “Ah. the artillery.” the papa exclaimed between his set teeth, covering his ears with his hands. The Boer commander selected a position directly in the rear of the English fort, where the walls were lowest, while the English cannon were turned upon the side of the Boer stronghold, where several soldiers were apparently making observations. “We're enemies now.” the English commander announced grimly, “and we can’t talk to each other.*’ “Does that include me?” the papa asked. “Oh. no.” the captains cried in a chorus. “You can talk to me,*’ the English officer said. “And me,” from the Boer. “Then I’ll lx* suspected of being a spy and l»e shot to death by both.” Ami the papa showed such a decided inclination to seek refuge in his studio that the officers united in capturing ami bringing him back. “Well, go ahead,” the |»apa said when he was again seated. “I*ll l>e war correspondent.” and he produced a notebook and pencil. There was no uncomfortable formality as to exchanging alternate volleys. Each side shot as fast and as frequently as it chose, ami in consequence the |M»as pattered against the paper walls at a furious rate, ami several of both English and Boer sold-

iers dropped out of sight with surprising promptness. “Hadn’t 1 better run for an ambulance?” the papa asked, with a good deal of eagerness. Strange to say, for this tender thought the papa was instantly seized by the officers. “Now you must stay just where you are till the war is over.” one said. “But I was pitying the poor wounded soldiers.’ “Mine aren’t hurt ninch.” the Boer Captain declared. “The balls just grazed their skin.” “And mine aren’t hurt at all.” said the English. “They only fainted when they saw the cannon-balls coming.*’ “Besides,” continued the Boer, “the real battle part is just commencing.” “You give a good deai of battle for a penny, don’t you?*’ the papa observed, propping his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. “I guess maybe we ought to have charged two cents.” the British man said, reflectively. “Well.” the papa declared, brightening up. “a s I only paid one penny, just let me know when the battle is half over, and I*ll go away.” “Oh no!” the Boer Captain said. “Perhaps a penny is all it is really worth.” The battle now took on a phase which caused the papa to open his eyes in genuine amazement. The Boer commander lighted a “blue-head” match, slipped it into his cannon, and. while the sulphur was burning, discharged it against the English stronghold. “What’s that for?*’ the papa demanded. “You oughtn’t to ask questions of soldiers while they’re fighting.” averred the Englishman. “But I*m a war correspondent.” “Well.” the Boer said. “I’m trying to set fire to the English fort.” “I’m!” And the papa, wrinkling his forehead, measured with his eye the distance between the battle-ground and the house. When the English officer saw the “fifre-arra’w” discharged toward his garrison, he seized the rubber ball which had been filled at the fountain: but as the match rebounded to a safe distance, the water brigade was not called into action. The papa had grown strangely silent. and the battle continued furiously. Match after match was lighted and discharged from each cannon, and at length one fell within the French fort. In a moment all was excitement. The papa arose to his feet that he might overlook the entire scene, and the English water brigade squirted blindly in the direction of the blaze. To add to the confusion, the Boer stronghold was suddenly discovered to be also on fire. At last the conflagration was under control, but not before both forts were sadly damaged. “The battle’s over.** announcul the Englishman. “Which side is victorious?** the papa inquired. “Both.” the Boer said. decisively. “Well.” the papa declared, “that ought to be a very satisfactory ending. Let’s examine the forts and count the damage.” A search amid the ruins disclosed a woeful state of affairs. Several of the soldiers on each side were without limbs ami heads, and one poor fellow was melted into an unrecognisable mass. “I never thought of the heat melting them.” the Boer Captain said, ruefully, as he gathered up his men. “Nor I.” admitted the Englishman. “Well.” the papa said. “I think one such battle is enough. If the Boer army ever chases the English close enough to the house to shoot one of those matches in at the cellar window. I give you warning that the Home Guards will immediately take a hand.”