Tex tried it gingerly, then gave in and tackled the food. After a while they all sat back, feeling considerably better. "Not bad," admitted Tex, "but do you know what I'd like? A stack of steaming hotcakes, tender and golden brown-"
"Oh, shut up!" said Matt.
"-with melted butter and just swimming in maple syrup. Okay, I'll shut up." He unzipped his pouch and took out his harmonica.. "Well, what d'yuh know! Still dry." He tried a couple of notes, then broke into a brilliant execution of The Cross-Eyed Pilot.
"Hey, stop that," said Oscar. "This is a sort of a sick room, you know."
Tex turned a troubled glance, at the patient. "You think he can hear it?"
Thurlow turned 'and muttered in his sleep. Matt bent over him. "J'ai soif," the lieutenant mumbled, then repeated distinctly, "fai soif."
"What did he say?"
"I don't know."
"It sounded like French to me. Either of you guys savvy French?"
"Not me."