"Good idea, my lad. Yes, put it on, full steam ahead."
Spud rushed to the water-stand, fixed up the hose, then running it out he let go. Swish went the cold battering fluid into the angry, struggling mob. Militiamen hate water as much as they do soap. And Spud's [pg 76] terrible shower-bath was too much. They broke and fled, the water and blood trickling down their faces and clothes and damping the stolen goods in their pockets. Just as they dispersed the "Fall in" sounded. All doubled on parade, where the roll was called, and the seething excited mass reduced to silence and order.
"Parade—'Shun," yelled Colonel Corkleg. They sprang up like the Guards' Brigade.
"Every man will empty his pockets of the stolen goods. Then the companies will march in succession off parade."
There was a titter and then a chuckle as the sergeants went round and ordered the looters to lay out their wares on the ground in front. Tins of paste, blacking, polish, cheese, cakes, cigars, cigarettes, buttonhooks, lemonade, &c., were quickly disgorged. When finished each company marched off. When the last one had left the ground the old colonel quietly chuckled as he looked along the sixteen lines of stolen goods.
"D—— rascals, but d—— good soldiers," he muttered. Then, turning to the sergeant-major, he ordered him to return the wares [pg 77] to the much-battered canteen of the Perth Mileeshy.
Next day in the regimental order there appeared: "Promotions—Private Spud Tamson, promoted Lance-Corporal for meritorious conduct."
[pg 78]
CHAPTER IX.
LAUGHTER AND LOVE.
"Paw!"