“Pipe down, you damned recruits. Lights are supposed to be out at eight o’clock. If you guys want to git work detail for the rest of your lives——”
“All right, you dirty German spy. Git the hell out of here and let us sleep.”
All of the candles had been put out as soon as the voice of the first sergeant was heard. The men had flung themselves on their beds. Now each one pretended to be asleep.
“Who said that?” The first sergeant was furious. “I’ll work you birds till your shoes fall off.”
The room answered with loud and affected snores. The first sergeant, in all of his fierceness, disappeared.
II
It was morning.
Sergeant Kerfoot Harriman, bearing with proud satisfaction the learning and culture he had acquired in the course of three years at a small Middle-Western university, walked down the Rue de Dieu in a manner which carried the suggestion that he had forgotten the belt of his breeches.