"I'll have to commit perjury, I suppose," said the Optimist sadly, handing him the oilskin-guarded case. "It's punishable by law but I'll look to you and Hathi to bail me out."
"Quit foolin'," commanded the Philosopher, "and tell us, afore we help ourselves, wot's makin' you so greedy-like the very day you ought to be bustin' to share your soul with your pals?"
"Always s'posin' they ain't got none of their own," murmured the Optimist, throwing him a box of matches.
"I ain't foolin'. There's a regular romance about them cigarettes you indelicate spirits is about to enjoy without appreciatin' of."
"Regular your Granny!" growled the Pessimist. "Which of your beauty gals robbed Dadda's case for this little lot? Why, they're Burmese!" he finished in astonishment.
For answer the Optimist nodded to Hathi.
"You was up at the Daggone a fair piece?" he inquired.
Hathi reflected.
"When we was quartered at Rangoon? You bet!"
"You'll mind them festival nights afore the battalion was ordered for Bosch fightin'?"