"Across the way! It's five miles--and a hill between!"
Burton, who knew Captain Adams of old, ignored the interruption. It was an easy amusement to "draw" Adams.
"With a little promptitude, and--h'm--accuracy, you might have bagged the whole lot; and who knows if Big or Little Willy mightn't have been there on a visit? But you were so slow getting to work that they all got away--except the cooks."
"But, hang it all! I gave the order 'Battery action' one second after we got the first call from O.P. and...."
"Yes, but your first shell plugged into a cabbage patch half a mile to the left."
"O.P. reported 300 yards," snorted the captain indignantly.
"Wanted to spare your feelings, old man. As I was saying, it only scared the Huns and gave them time to clear out. The second shell was just about as far to the right: demolished a pigsty."
"Come now, how the deuce do you know that?"
"Well, the divisional cooks started to make sauerkraut and sausage----"
At this point Adams noticed that his subalterns were writhing with the effort to contain their laughter; and perceiving at last that he was being "chipped," he caught Burton by the collar and hurled him towards one of the bunks. This was the opening move of a scrimmage which might have continued until both were breathless had not Adams suddenly remembered himself.