"Well," asked Burrell gruffly, "you can shake hands, can't you?"
Sullivan, grinning sheepishly, held up a muffled paw. "I reckon not, sir," he said.
"What's the matter with 'em?" the Captain demanded.
"Blistered th'm, sir," Sullivan responded with solemn joy. "Blistered th'm, walkin'."
"H'm," the Captain muttered. His eyes were burning into the man. "Sullivan," he said abruptly, "there's a can of bacon in my haversack that belongs to you."
Sullivan gulped. Discipline had him by the heels again. "Beg y' pardon, sir," he mumbled nervously. "I reckon I must a been sort of loco that day."
"Well," said the Old Man of B Company gravely, "maybe I'll let it go this time. But see it don't happen again. H'm."
CHAPTER X
THIS FORTUNE
This Fortune you speak of, tell me, what sort of creature is she, to have the good things of the world so in her hands?—The Inferno of Dante Alighieri.