"Well, colour-sergeant, you know what widows are, and you know what cooks are. Put a policeman on to watch him. You'll probably find him carrying all the choice steaks out at night. If you nab him, I'll deal with him."
"Then, sir, a lot of the blankets are being stolen."
"Heavens! This life is full of troubles. What is the cause?"
"Women, sir! Women! Root of all evil, sir."
"Well, I'll see the colonel about that."
(Next day Sergeant Bludgeon and his policemen raided the haunts of every Mary Ann in Mudtown. Two hundred blankets were found—and collared.)
"Some of the boots have gone amissing. These devils would steal the sugar out of your tea, sir. I'm nearly balmy, sir. They pawn them for beer, sir."
"Well, I'm——!" ejaculated Coronet. "What are we to do?"
"Make them march in their bare feet, sir. That will teach them. They'll soon [pg 202] find another pair—without paying for them. You're too kind-hearted, sir. They put it on to you."
"I suppose they do; in fact, I know they do. But there! they can fight like Trojans. And that is a great consolation, should we ever get in a fix. Now, is there any more correspondence?"