"Well, that's funny!" I says—and of course dearie you understand this had been enemy ground only a little before and that there was a wine-shop going was a miricle and only for it being Ceasare's papa we wouldn't of got none, which is how he come to be along with us.
Well, we all felt real sore and disappointed but took it like a man for of course a red cross nurse would get it for the wounded and we had our health.
So papa give us all another round and we took the big molasses jugs and started off. It was getting toward twilight and pretty cold and I will say it give me sort of sore feeling towards the folks at home and blamed them for letting me be without a cigarette and you know how it is about two drinks makes me a little sore at things and I began to cheer up after the third and this was early in the evening.
Not so Mac. He has a talent for drink. Well, we had just about left the motion-picture village behind us when he commenced to sing and while I dont know what it was about, I will put it down this time because you wont know neither.
"Fortune if thou'll but gie me still
Hale Breeks, a scone, an' whisky gill,
An' rowth o' ryme to rave at will,
Tak' a' the rest,
"An' deal 't about as they blind skill
Directss thee best."
Well, naturally we applauded which is always safe when you don't understand a thing, and it certainly was comical for Mac is generally a quiet cuss and a tightwad as well. Then I spoke up.
"These jugs is too heavy!" I says. "Let's lighten 'em up a bit."
Well they thought so and we done it and felt better and then I sang them:
"Give me your love
The sunshine of your eyes!"
And both Ceasare and Mac commenced to cry. Mac set down his jugs and we done the same and then Mac done the most generous thing I ever seen a Scotchman do even in liquor. He reached inside his bonnett and took out three cigarettes, shook the bonnett to show they was actually the last, and give us each one and one to himself.