No more did I,' he says.
'Onless,' he says, 'they shoot pitchforks,' he says, 'they'll niver
hur-rt ye,' he says. 'Ye'll be onvincible,' he says. 'Ye'll pro-ceed
into th' harbor,' he says, 'behind th' sturdy armor iv projuce,' he
says. 'Let ye'er watchword be "Stay on th' far-rm," an' go on to
victhry,' he says. 'Gin'ral,' says Cap Brice, 'how can I thank ye f'r
th' honor?' he says. ''Tis no wondher th' men call ye their fodder,'
he says. 'Twas a joke Cap Brice med at th' time. 'I'll do th' best I
can,' he says; 'an', if I die in th' attempt,' he says, 'bury me where
the bran-mash 'll wave over me grave,' he says.
"An' Gin'ral Shafter he got together his fleet, an' put th' armor on
it. 'Twas a formidable sight. They was th' cruiser 'Box Stall,' full
armored with sixty-eight bales iv th' finest grade iv chopped feed;
th' 'R-red Barn,' a modhern hay battleship, protected be a whole mow
iv timothy; an' th' gallant little 'Haycock,' a torpedo boat shootin'
deadly missiles iv explosive oats. Th' expedition was delayed be wan
iv th' mules sthrollin' down to th' shore an' atin' up th' afther
batthry an' par-rt iv th' ram iv th' 'R-red Barn' an', befure repairs
was made, Admiral Cervera heerd iv what was goin' on.
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