Every one was perfectly quiet, and Linham continued, ‘Bandsman Napper, John Blair, recruit, is placed in your mess. Trumpeter Hodson will take him in hand for a few weeks, and you’ll give him any information in your power. He will go to the trumpet-major’s quarters at six o’clock this evening and get his trumpet, bugle, and cords. He will attend trumpet-practice in the morning, ha, hum!’ And wheeling round, Sergeant Linham disappeared as suddenly as he had appeared.
‘Yah, old Hooky-beak,’ cried one of the trumpeters, ‘go and get a shave.’
‘Silly fool,’ said Napper; ‘he’s like an old woman. Now then,’ as a trumpet rang out, ‘there’s mess; away for the tea.’
All scuttered for their basins, which with a clatter they laid on the table.
Brown, the trumpeter who had fetched up the dinner, cried out, ‘Anything from the canteen?’
Several voices answered, ‘Yes, I want some butter;’ ‘Bring us a ha’p’orth of jam,’ and such like, and such like.
‘Any one lend me a brown and I’ll treat myself to a bloater,’ said Hodson; but no answer being forthcoming, with a cheery whistle he turned, noticed Parkes on his bed, who continued to snore loudly, gave him a sounding smack on the tightest part of his overalls, and cried out, ‘Wake up, you lazy pig, and shut that row.’
Parkes jumped to his feet and asked who had struck him.
‘Dawes,’ whispered Hodson, pointing to the red-headed, blubber-lipped trumpeter, who was standing with his back to Parkes.
The latter youth, with an angry cry, charged the supposed culprit, and in a second they were trying to tear one another’s head off, while Hodson was looking out of the window.