Weariness, fed-upity, after many miles had been laboriously reeled off, was a factor in slackening vigilance on the semi-ice, many painful falls resulting—to fall with a pack produces a situation resembling a beetle on its back.
Stumpy pulled someone out of a snowdrift—then he fell into one himself, unnoticed. He caught the Battalion up at the halt.
"Oh, 'ell," he shouted indignantly, "I might a' died for all you bloomin' well cared."
"Why, wot's up?"
"Up? I fell into a bloomin' drift."
"Oh, an' wot the 'ell d'you do that for?"
"Do it for. Why, why ...!" The crowd about him grinned.
"P'raps 'e saw 'is ole woman comin 'along the road."
"'E saw the bloomin' captain drop a 'skate' (fag-end) down an' went after it."
"That's the way 'e 'as 'is weekly wash."