"Shame on you, Hooper!"
"That's no way for a man to act."
"Get off your blouse, kid," blustered Private Hooper, as he unfastened his own blouse and tossed it over the end of a cot. "You need a trimming, and you're going to get it right now!"
"Here, kid, button your blouse up again," ordered Private Hyman. "You ain't called upon to fight that bully. Hooper, if you're spoiling for fight I'll do my best to be kind to you."
But Hal, the flush dying from his cheeks, coolly continued unbuttoning his blouse. Then he pulled it off, handing it to a soldier near by.
"Dress yourself, kid. You don't have to fight a man twice your size."
"Let some one else have the job, kid. There's some of us here will take it."
"The kid will stand up and take his own trimming," announced Hooper, with ugly emphasis.
"No, no, no!"
"Beat it, Hooper!"