“‘Peg him out, sorr,’ sez I, in a whishper.
“‘Peg him out!’ sez me orf’cer bhoy, up loud, just as if ’twas battalion-p’rade an’ he pickin’ his wurrds from the Sargint.
“The non-coms tuk Peg Barney—a howlin’ handful he was—an’ in three minuts he was pegged out—chin down, tight-dhrawn—on his stummick, a tent-peg to each arm an’ leg, swearin’ fit to turn a naygur white.
“I tuk a peg an’ jammed ut into his ugly jaw.—‘Bite on that, Peg Barney,’ I sez; ‘the night is settin’ frosty, an’ you’ll be wantin’ divarsion before the mornin’. But for the Rig’lations you’d be bitin’ on a bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,’ sez I.
“All the draf’ was out av their tents watchin’ Barney bein’ pegged.
“‘’Tis agin the Rig’lations! He strook him!’ screeches out Scrub Greene, who was always a lawyer; an’ some of the men tuk up the shoutin’.
“‘Peg out that man!’ sez my orf’cer bhoy, niver losin’ his timper; an’ the non-coms wint in and pegged out Scrub Greene by the side av Peg Barney.
“I cud see that the draf’ was comin’ roun’. The men stud not knowin’ fwhat to do.
“‘Get to your tents!’ sez me orf’cer bhoy. ‘Sargint, put a sintry over these two men.’
“The men wint back into the tents like jackals, an’ the rest av the night there was no noise at all excipt the stip av the sintry over the two, an’ Scrub Greene blubberin’ like a child. ’Twas a chilly night, an’ faith, ut sobered Peg Barney.