“Oh, there’s one of them big scrawlers. Keep your eyes open, and don’t go to sleep.”
“All right, Sergeant.”
“Don’t be so handy with that tongue of yours, sir. Listen, and don’t talk. Do you know what will happen if you do go to sleep?”
Private Smithers thought of the many scoldings—tongue-thrashings he would have called them—which he had had from his wife, and in answer to the Sergeant’s question he drew himself up more stiffly and sighed.
“I said, sir, do you know what would happen if you went to sleep?”
Private Smithers sighed again, deeply, and thought more.
“Do you hear what I said, sir?” roared the Sergeant.
“Yes, Sergeant; but you said I wasn’t to speak.”
“On duty, sir.”
“Am on duty,” growled the private.