"They're spies," declared Spud, who had read all the penny horribles in his days.
"Ay, 'yin o' them gied me a pint, an' asked me hoo mony men were in the regiment."
"I tell't ye," declared our heroic lance-corporal, who then declared his intention of leading an attack on the German waiters.
"A'm wi' ye," declared Micky Cameron.
"An' me."
"An' me."
"An' me," shouted many others all over the room. That settled the attack, and made Lance-Corporal Spud Tamson conjure up visions of fame and promotion by his daring night raids on the hotels. A conference was next called to discuss details.
"Should we shoot them?" asked Micky.
"Na, that'll mak' owre much noise," interjected Spud.
"I've an awfu' guid razor," remarked Beefy M'Lean, as he thumbed a murderous-looking blade. Other methods were suggested, such as pole-axing, hanging, and tying them up in barbed wire. But the cautious spirit, engendered by Tamson's [pg 104] stripe, ruled all these murderous designs out of order.