"Jones," said the officer, frowning darkly, "this gentleman complains that you have killed his dog."
"A dastardly trick," interrupted the owner of the dog, "to kill a defenseless animal that would harm no one!"
"Not much defenseless about him," chimed in the private, heatedly. "He bit pretty freely into my leg, so I ran my bayonet into him."
"Nonsense!" answered the owner angrily. "He was a docile creature. Why did you not defend yourself with the butt of your rifle?"
"Why didn't he bite me with his tail?" asked Private Jones, with spirit.
FIGURATIVELY SPEAKING
Dr. Harvey Wiley tells the following story: Sleepily, after a night off, a certain interne hastened to his hospital ward. The first patient was a stout old Irishman.
"How goes it?" he inquired.
"Faith, it'sh me breathin', doctor. I can't get me breath at all, at all."
"Why, your pulse is normal. Let me examine the lung-action," replied the doctor, kneeling beside the cot and laying his head on the ample chest.