"And where is Fatty-legs?"
"Fatty-legs" we called a fellow-officer, who, being short, wore enormous water-tight boots.
"He was here just now. Fatty-legs, where are you?"
"Fatty-legs, don't hide. We can smell your boots."
Everybody laughed, but their laugh was interrupted by a rough, indignant voice that sounded out of the darkness,—
"Stop that! Are you not ashamed? Fatty-legs was killed this morning reconnoitring."
"He was here just now. It must be a mistake."
"You imagined it. Heigh-ho! you there, behind the samovar, cut me a slice of lemon."
"And me!"