‘That’s all jolly fine, Beefy. You’ve let me down, and if I get chucked out, it’s all your fault.’
‘You’re a ruddy pessimist. The old colonel is a sport. He’ll be tickled to death. Of course, he will probably have you up, make a hellifa fuss, &c.; but when you go out he’ll burst with laughter. You have got no humour, you silly ass. And you forget that the old chap used to do things at Sandhurst. Hang it all! it’s only a rag; and if there’s trouble, John, I’ll own up. I’m not a sneak.’
‘Fall in for lecture,’ shouted the C.S.M. ‘And, I say,’ he added.
‘What, sergeant-major?’
‘Is John Brown here?’
‘Yes.’
‘You’re for orderly-room after the lecture. Make your will out. You’re going to be hanged, drawn, and quartered.’
‘Right-o!’ I answered, making the best of a bad job.