"That I am not left mouldering here. There is a company leaving for Morocco. I'll join that."
One of the non-coms gave a fresh chuckle and was heard to say:
"The Moors are in for a bad time. The gentleman's enlisting."
"Silence!" cried the man, "I don't stand being laughed at."
His voice sounded harsh and masterful.
The non-com, a brutal-looking giant, retorted:
"Here, recruity, you'd better be careful how you talk to me, or . . ."
"Or what?"
"You'll get something you won't like, that's all!"
The man went up to him, took him round the waist, swung him over the ledge of the window and pitched him into the yard.