“Like mother made,” he said, with a grin. “Gee, but it's good.”
At that moment the doctor appeared at the cellar door.
“I say, old chap,” he said, “there will be a riot here in fifteen minutes. That coffee smells the whole camp.”
“Bring 'em along, doc. The sick chaps first. By Jove, here's the sergeant major himself.”
“What's all this?” inquired the sergeant major in his gruffest voice. “Who's responsible for this fire?”
“Coffee, sergeant major?” answered Barry, handing him a tin full.
“But what—?”
“Drink it first, sergeant major.”
The sergeant major took the mess tin and tasted the coffee.
“Well, this IS fine,” he declared, “and it's what the boys want. But this fire is against orders, sir. I ought to have it put out.”