“How they are pitying us at home,” I replied. “‘Those rabbit holes! I can’t think how you keep the water out of them at all!’ Can’t you hear them? ‘And isn’t that bully beef most horribly tough and hard! Ugh! I couldn’t bear it.’” I tried to imitate a lady’s voice, but it was not a great success. I was out of practice.
“Yes,” said Dixon, thinking of the extraordinarily good jugged hare produced by Madame. Then his thoughts turned to Davies, the hunter who was responsible for the feast.
“Wonderful fellow, old Davies,” he added. “In fact they’re all good fellows.”
“He’s a shepherd boy,” I said. “Comes from Blaenau Festiniog, a little village right up in the Welsh mountains. I know the place. A few years ago he was a boy looking after sheep out on the hills all day; a wide-eyed Welsh boy, with a sheepdog trotting behind him. He’s rather like a sheepdog himself, isn’t he?”
“Gad, he’s a wonderful fellow. But they all are, you know, Bill. Look at your chap, Lewis; great clumsy red-faced fellow, with his piping voice, that sometimes gets on your nerves.”
“He’s too lazy at times,” I broke in; “but he’s honest, dead honest. He was a farm hand! Good heavens, fancy choosing a fellow out of the farmyard to act as valet and waiter! I remember the first time he waited! He was so nervous he nearly dropped everything, and his face like that fire! O’Brien said he was tight!”
“Richards talks a jolly sight too much, sometimes—but after all what does it matter? They try their best; and think how we curse them! Look at the way I cursed about that stove this afternoon: as soon as anything goes wrong, we strafe like blazes, whether it’s their fault or not. A fellow in England would resign on the spot. But they don’t care a damn, and just carry on. This cursing’s no good, Bill. Hang it all, they’re doing their bit same as we are, and they have a d—d sight harder time.”
“I don’t think they worry much about the strafing,” I said. “It’s part of the ordinary routine. Still, I agree, we do strafe them for thousands of things that aren’t their fault.”
“They’re a sort of safety-valve,” he answered with a laugh. “I don’t know how it is, one would never dream of cursing the men like we do these fellows. You know as well as I do, Bill, the only way to run a company is by love. It’s no earthly use trying to get the men behind you, by cursing them day and night. I really must try and stop cursing these servants. After all, they’re the best fellows in the world.”
“The men curse all right,” I said, “when they don’t get their food right. I guess we’re all animal, after all. It’s merely a method of getting things done quickly. Besides, you know perfectly well you won’t be able to stop blazing away when there’s no fire or food. It creates an artificial warmth.”