Here the Major snored but so gently that the Sergeant, whose whole attention was centred on the written words, was proceeding all unaware when a small, roundish object hurtled across the room, smote the Major softly upon the cheek and fell to the floor; hereupon the Major opened sleepy eyes.
"Certainly, Zeb!" said he. "Egad you're in the right on't—er—I fear my attention was wandering as 'twere—though I listen very well with my eyes shut!"
The Sergeant lowered the manuscript to stare, round-eyed:
"Anan, sir?" he enquired.
"Go on again, Zeb—this chapter on Salient Angles must be clear and concise as possible. Proceed, Zebedee—we'd got as far as the siege of Aeth, I think." Saying which, the Major closed his eyes again and Sergeant Zebedee, nothing loth, went on:
"'—the most open by bastions, the others, and those of at least ninety degrees, by demi——'"
Once again a small missile flew with unerring aim, struck the Major on the chin and rebounded on to the desk.
The Major started, rubbed his eyes and sat up.
"What now, Zeb?" he enquired. The Sergeant, lowering the manuscript again, stared harder than ever.
"Sir?" he enquired.