"They're Farmer Timkins' fowls," said Patrol-leader Smithers gravely.
"You don't say so," said Bindle. "Seem to be in good song this mornin'. Reg'lar bunch o' canaries."
To this flippancy, Patrol-leader Smithers made no response.
"Does there 'appen to be any place where I can get a rinse, 'Indenberg?" he enquired.
"There's a tap over there for men," said Patrol-leader Smithers, pointing to the extreme right of the field, "and for ladies over there," he pointed in the opposite direction.
"No mixed bathin', I see," murmured Bindle. "Now, as man to man, Ludendorff, which would you advise?"
The lad looked at him with grave eyes. "The men's tap is over there," and again he pointed.
"Well, well," said Bindle, "p'raps you're right; but I ain't fond o' takin' a bath in the middle of a field," he muttered.
"The taps are screened off."
"Well, well, live an' learn," muttered Bindle, as he made for the men's tap.