'At this the irascible Reginald completely lost his temper and hurled the sandwich with such fury to the ground that it broke one of the gorgeous tiles that ornamented the floor. "Have you," said he, "the audacity to doubt the word of my aunt Martha? Have you the face to stand there and dispute the will of that excellent woman, written when dying of a broken heart at the death of her black cat, and whose only solace was the company of her dutiful nephew? Then
your fate be upon your own head." And he strode out of the hall gnashing and grinding his teeth in the most terrible manner, only stopping to pick up the sandwich which he had thrown down in his outburst of passion.
'When the door had slammed to with terrific force behind him there was a great silence in the hall, and we all looked at one another with scared faces. Soon every one arose from the table, and silently left the banqueting-hall to prepare for the fight which we now knew would come on the morrow.
'Try as I would, I could not sleep for thinking of
the battle in store for us. I counted more sheep than would have fed our army for six months, but with no result. I then tried elephants, and after that camels and zebras, and finally, hoping that their odd shapes might bring me repose, I tried ant bears, but all in vain. At last, in despair, I rose from my hard couch, donned my uniform, and snatching up a cracknel, strode out of my tent.
'Murmuring "Brittle Pantechnicons" (which, by the way, was our password) to the sentry, I strolled idly down to the sea. It was a beautiful and perfectly still night, with not a ripple to disturb the surface of the sea, upon which, here and there, would glow a little shimmer of light as the phosphorescent turbot rose to its prey. In the distance, and away to the right, could be seen the camp-fires of the enemy, and the reflections in the pools left by the tide. Ever and anon sounds of merriment could be heard as the invaders, heedless of the morrow, spent the night in revelry. To the left, and further back, could be seen the tents of our forces, not a sound arising therefrom except the low monotonous breathing of the soldiers (who were so well drilled that even in their sleep they breathed in time), or maybe the "Who goes there?" of the sentry would sound in the darkness, as he mistook a moth for a spy, or the drone of the beach bee for the war-whoop of the enemy.