"I find I'm mistaken," called the wag, down the table. "Our guests are only colonels."
"You'll be a general, one of these days, if you don't look out, Fowler," warned another soldier near by.
"The gypsies always told my mother I'd be a general," replied Fowler complacently.
"Yes, a general prisoner," continued the soldier who had just warned the wag.
This raised a prompt laugh, for, in the Army, a "general prisoner" is one who is serving a term of confinement after sentence by a general court-martial.
"There are generals, and generals, of course," admitted Fowler.
"There'd be a general famine, Fowler, if you ever stopped talking at mess long enough to do all the eating that your mouth calls for."
"How long have you young gentlemen been out of West Point?" asked Fowler, turning to Noll.
Noll grinned, but did not make any answer to this question.
"I hope you are West Pointers," continued the company wag. "Nearly all of the gentlemen present are West Pointers."