(He then raises his tankard of rum, as if to toast some rare thing.)

"The King has his wine, while his guardsmen drink ale, An' he has a pillow t' comfort his tail. While we sit in the mud and drink muck for our tea! God Bless us, fer Crown and for Country!

"Well he's no king a' mine, But they still took me in. Now I'm Marchin' and prayin' and hopin' like sin, That the Good Lord will hide me when death comes my way! God Bless me, fer Crown and for Country!"

Excuse me dear lady, but the drink has taken my tongue and made a rascal of me. I would not subject a lady to such heathen musings. This place is wild enough, I am sure.

By the stars! What is that ragged thing in the rafters? I would load the 'buss and try to take it down, but I would be sure to blow a hole in the roof trying. And I fear it too thin for keeping and too harmless for sport!

Rum again, good man, and brandy for the lady! (Aside) Do you think that bauble of hers would fetch a few coins? 'Tis a hard large land here, and I would fain have a few hard coin to add to my small pile…

Mikal