"What's an adjective, sir?" inquired some one.
"An adjective's a d—— nasty expression—a swear word."
"But hoo d'ye no' let us sweer at a lectur' an' tell us tae sweer at a Cherge?" piped in Spud Tamson.
"My dear fellow, you're a positive bore. But I will tell you—in peace time a soldier is expected to be a gentleman; in active service he's got to be a lunatic. That's the A B C of it all. To continue, though—what do you do after the Charge is over?"
[pg 68] "Search the deid men's pooches," chirrupped a Coocaddens lad.
"A natural thing for you—for all of you. You're all pickpockets, I hear."
"No me," said Spud.
"What are you?"
"Rag and bone merchant."
"Beastly job—no wonder you want a wash. That by the way. After a Charge you have to assist in routing the enemy. And then——"