They stared open-mouthed for a full second, then a roar of delight echoed through the dug-out and the sleepers awoke. Bubb rose to his feet, whirled his clasp knife round his hand, endeavoured to dance a jig, and only stopped when his head came in forcible contact with the roof for the third time. Fitzgerald chuckled; a glow of satisfaction lit up his handsome face, and his eyes rested lovingly on the sandbag which stood in an angle of the wall near the door. Then he lay back, rested his head on the wall and stared at the candle. In that position he looked a very charming boy, and he knew it. In civil life he must have been very fond of society, the company of notable people, and above all of pretty women.
Again he looked at the sandbag in the angle of the wall, but his eyes were not the only ones fixed on that object. And no wonder: the sandbag contained the rum jar.
"Well, wot about a tot?" asked Bubb.
Bowdy rose and took the sandbag into the middle of the room, where he uncovered the precious jar and filled a mess-tin of liquor. He handed the tin to Bubb.
"Cheero!" said the Cockney, and drank. He passed the tin round and wiped his lips. "There's some guts in rum," he muttered, and his voice was full of emotion. "Gawd! it doesn't 'arf warm up the inside of a bloke. Now, wot about a Christmas dinner?" he continued. "Bully ain't wot one would call très bon, is it? Christmas dinner of bully beef! Gor'blimey! that's no blurry good!"
"It's a funny thing that a full belly always is associated with happiness," said Fitzgerald, shaking his head and laughing loudly. Rum went easily to his head. "If a man gets married, he feeds well, and if a child is born to him, he stuffs himself with viands. It's always his belly."
"Always," said Bubb, reaching a second time for the mess-tin.
"It doesn't matter what Fitz says," remarked Bowdy Benners, sinking his chin into the collar of his sheepskin coat. "What I say is this: We must have a Christmas dinner to-morrow."
"How can we get one?" Fitz enquired.
"Easy enough that," said Bowdy. "I know an old woman of the Café Calomphie. A parcel of good things could be got there for a few francs. I could go down to Les Brebis in an hour."