‘That’s right, John! That’s right!’ exclaimed the padre, glad to think a budding mutiny was being quelled.
‘Oh, very well. We’ll study the brute,’ concluded Ginger, recalling the lecture on psychology.
III.
For the next fortnight we had a dog’s life. The company commander, who was a real good chap, didn’t notice it. He was such a perfect sport and gentleman that he concluded his new officer was the same. Billy and I, however, threw our influence into the scales of neutrality, for Tosher and Ginger, when roused, were of violent temper. They were such good pals that we were not a little afraid of their rapidly fraying temper.
At last the storm-clouds burst.
At morning parade Blase-Bones was inspecting the platoon. He was in a bad mood. When he reached Ginger he remarked, ‘What do you mean by coming out with such shocking boots?’
‘It was wet yesterday, sir. I’ve tried to polish them. I’ve done my best.’
‘Your best is not my best. Understand?’
‘No, sir.’
‘You’re insolent.’