"That," he said, "is His Lordship."
"'His Lordship'? But what's his name?"
"Well, I have forgotten his name. We all call him 'His Lordship.'"
"But why do you permit all this funny business?"
The sergeant shrugged his shoulders.
"What can I do?" he exclaimed. "If I forbid one thing he bobs up with something else. Look at him! He's the laziest man I ever saw. We named him 'His Lordship' the moment of his arrival in our midst, and bets were made that he would succumb after the first day's march. Not a bit of it! He looked tired at the start, but he looked no more so at the finish. We were finally placed in the trenches. His Lordship did everything ungrudgingly, but he could not sleep without a pillow. What do you suppose he did?"
"I haven't the slightest idea," said Hal. "What did he do?"
"Why, he made a bargain with a big fat fellow, who, for four packs of cigarettes a day, agreed to let his lordship use his stomach as a pillow. He's lazy, yes, but just the same he's a fighter. We began to respect him on the day he laid low sixteen Germans with eighteen cartridges. He did it as nonchalantly as though he were in a shooting gallery. But lazy! Why, he was so lazy he would not brush the perspiration off his forehead. He asked a neighbor to do it for him!"
The sergeant stopped and eyed His Lordship.
"Look," he said, "he's going to bed again."