"'Ere, wot's this?" he exclaimed suddenly. "This, in the Canal."
They looked in. A stretcher, to which a ground sheet was bound by a leathern thong, drifted slowly down the Canal. Quick as a flash, Bubb dived in and brought the stretcher to the bank.
"Carry me 'ome on this," he said. "Put the ground sheet over me."
He lay down on the wet stretcher and his mates covered him over with the sheet and raised the burden to their shoulders. Spudhole regained his good humour and began to sing. He was in the throes of a rag-time chorus when Flanagan and Bowdy halted opposite the Café Calomphie and placed the stretcher on the pavement.
Flanagan knocked at the door. Emilie came out. Bubb sweated terror from every pore.
"Take me away!" he yelled, wrapping himself very tightly in his sheet. "For Gawd's sake take me back to the billet!"
Agitation and confusion distorted his countenance; at that moment he longed for the ground to open and swallow him. Flanagan, who knew French like a native, was speaking to the girl.
"What are you saying?" Spudhole called.
"She wants the ground sheet," said Flanagan. "I'm going to make her a present of it."
"For Gawd's sake——"