"Twenty quid, sir," I ventured. He went up in the air.
"Impossible! I'll give you ten."
I O. K'd that while the words were yet warm on his lips. Fifty dollars is a great deal of money to a soldier. He gave it to me with a pass for Scotland—where I had relatives—to which I had long been entitled but which had been useless to me as long as I had no money.
I quickly gathered my cronies together and we packed into the canteen to celebrate the occasion fittingly, in the only fashion a good soldier knows, in army beer so thick and strong that the hops floated on the tops of the mess-tins. While searching for the bottom of one of these I heard the orderly shouting: "Corporal Edwards! Corporal Edwards!" The other men gathered round me in the corner, drinking, while I scrunched down so that the orderly passed on and out still shouting my name.
I fled to the tent and was hastily getting my things together when a corporal came hot-foot saying that the officer wanted me at once. I went in, gave him my very best regimental salute and stood at attention.
"I find that you are not on the strength, corporal, and are not entitled to any money, so I'll trouble you to return that money I gave you."
"I'm sorry, sir," I said sadly, "but it's gone."
"Gone? How?"
"Debts, sir," I said firmly. "My mates have been keeping me going."
"Well, you must get it back from them at once and return it to me. It's most irregular. Push on now and see that you're back here in an hour's time with that money before those fellows spend it all in the canteen."