[pg 216] "Well—I suppose some concession has to be made," he muttered, walking to the head of the column.
"Battalion—'Shun!"
All sprang up like Guardsmen.
"Look here, men, I don't mind you making a butcher's shop of a German's face, but I object to your doing that with your own. They are not too pretty at the best of times. If you make them worse you'll frighten every woman in Mudtown. However, you have turned out remarkably quick. And as you are not required on a Hun-hunting expedition, I propose—on this special occasion—to march you all to the canteen and give you a pint of beer. But, mark you, if I hear a word from you after you go to bed again, I'll have the canteen closed for a month, and feed you on salt herrings, just to tickle your thirst and teach you forbearance. Understand?"
"Yes, sir," roared a thousand voices.
"Parade—dismiss." As each company went by they gave old Corkleg a smart salute, and sang, "For he's a jolly good fellow."
Bludgeon got a bottle of Scotch, a box of cigars, and a new blackthorn cudgel, "for [pg 217] services rendered," as the colonel tersely put it, when handing over the gifts.
"Thank you, sir," said Bludgeon.
"Welcome! Welcome! And when we all meet down below, Bludgeon, I'll have you appointed provost-sergeant to Old Nick."
[pg 218]