“A wot?” roared Chipmunk.
“A thing on four legs, that kicks like hell.”
“Wotever for? I ain’t never ridden no ’osses.”
“You’re going to learn, you unmilitary-looking, worm-eaten scab. You’ve got to be a ruddy soldier.”
“Gorblime!” said Chipmunk, “that’s the first I ’eard of it. A ’oss soldier? You’re not kiddin’, are you, Cap’en?”
“Certainly not.”
“Gorblime! Who would ha’ thought it?” Then he spat lustily and sucked at his pipe.
“You’ve nothing to say against it, have you?”
“No, Cap’en.”
“All right. And look here, when we’re in the army you must chuck calling me Cap’en.”