"No, that I wouldn't," answers the old soldier, emphatically. "I've tried it once already, and I can promise you I won't easily forget how that adventure ended. Would you like to hear the story? Well, then, here it is for you:"
Some thirty years ago, when I was a good deal nimbler than I am now (and a good deal sillier too, I'm afraid), a lot of us were quartered at Bona, with nothing much to do except taking charge of some stores; and as always happens with young officers when there's not enough duty on hand to keep them steady, we weren't long in getting into mischief. One day at mess somebody brought up this story of the reed jungle, and how no one dared go into it, and we all began joking each other about who should be the man to face the lions.
"De Launay's the one to do it!" cried Alphonse St. Foix, a young sub-lieutenant. "He's afraid of nothing. Don't you remember how he led the assault at Constantine?"
"It would hardly be a fair trial, though," said our senior Major, in his polite way; "for the lions would undoubtedly let him pass as one of themselves."
"Or if he were to put on a lion's hide," chimed in Claude Latour (who must have his joke, whatever happened), "they'd never find him out so long as he didn't bray."
At that there was a general laugh, which put me out so much that (more shame for me) I fairly lost my temper.
"Well," cried I, springing up, "for that one word I'll go and do the thing this very night, and then it shall be seen which of us is the lion, and which the ass."
"Agreed! agreed!" shouted all, clapping their hands, and hallooing like madmen.