"I'll tell the first R.T.O. I see all about it when I land—you perishin' kidnappers!" foamed my batman.
"Ho no, you won't!" said Frederick, complacently. "We aren't going to 'ave you runnin' about in your light-'eaded condition disgracin' the regiment—are we, Bill?"
"Not likely," William Buck replied. "We're going to take you back with us, safe and sound if we 'ave to break your neck to do it, an' don't you forget it, ol' man!"
I think it is extremely improbable that my batman ever will.
XXVII
HOT AIR
The scene is a base camp behind the Western Front. In the background is a gravel pit, its brow fringed with pines. On the right-hand side is a black hut; against one wall several cast-iron cylinders are leaning; against another several stretchers; behind it a squad of R.A.M.C. orderlies are playing pitch and toss for profit and pleasure. On the left-hand side is a cemetery.
On the turf in the centre of the stage are some two hundred members of the well-known British family, Atkins. The matter in hand being merely that of life and death those in the rear ranks are whiling away the time by playing crown and anchor. Their less fortunate comrades in the prominence of the front ranks are "havin' a bit o' shut eye"—in other words are fast asleep sitting up, propped the one against the other.
Before them stands a Bachelor of Science disguised as a Second Lieutenant. From the green and black brassard about his arm and the attar de chlorine and parfum de phosgene which cling about him in a murky aureole one would guess him to be connected with the Gas Service. And one would be quite correct; he is.
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