"You've upset the marmalade. Why can't you keep still?"
Keep still! Bindle was searching for the two bottles of Guinness' stout he knew to be somewhere among the débris, unconscious that Mrs. Bindle had packed them away in the tin-bath.
As the other tents disgorged their human contents, the pandemonium increased. In every key, appeals were being made for news of lost units.
By the side of the tin-bath Mrs. Bindle was praying for succour and the lost bell-tent, which had sped towards the east as if in search of the wise men, leaving all beneath it naked to the few stars that peeped from the scudding clouds above, only to hide their faces a moment later as if shocked at what they had seen.
Suddenly a brilliant light flashed across the meadow and began to bob about like a hundred candle power will-o'-the-wisp. It dodged restlessly from place to place, as if in search of something.
Behind a large acetylene motor-lamp, walked Patrol-leader Smithers, searching for one single erect bell-tent—there was none.
Shrieks that had been of terror now became cries of alarm. Forms that had struggled valiantly to escape from the billowing canvas, now began desperately to wriggle back again to the seclusion that modesty demanded. With heads still protruding they regarded the scene, praying that the rudeness of the wind would not betray them.
Taking immediate charge, Patrol-leader Smithers collected the men and gave his orders in a high treble, and his orders were obeyed.
By the time the dawn had begun nervously to finger the east, sufficient tents to shelter the women and children had been re-erected, the cause of the trouble discovered, and the men rebuked for an injudicious slacking of the ropes.
"I ought to have seen to it myself," remarked Patrol-leader Smithers with the air of one who knows he has to deal with fools. "You'll be all right now," he added reassuringly.