He held up
the bleeding digit and gazed at it with serious eyes.
"All for this tin of muck!" he exclaimed. "Suppose we have a good
square meal. I think we could get up one if we set to work."
Stoner's brown eyes sparkled eagerly.
"I know where there are potatoes and carrots and onions," he said.
"Out in a field behind Dead Cow Villa; I'm off; coming Pat?"
"Certainly, what are the others doing, Bill?"
"We must have fizz," said my friend, and money was forthwith collected
for wine. Bill hurried away, his bandolier round his shoulder and his
rifle at the slope; and Mervin undertook to set the place in order and
arrange the dug-out for the banquet. Goliath dragged his massive weight
over the parados and busied himself pulling flowers. Kore cleaned (p. 121)
the mess-tins, and Pryor, artistic even in matters of food, set about
preparing a menu-card.
When we returned from a search which was very successful, Stoner
divested himself of tunic and hat, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and
got on with the cooking. I took his turn at sentry-go, and Z----,
sleeping on the banquette, roused his stout body, became interested
for a moment, and fell asleep again. Bill returned with a bottle of
wine and seven eggs.
"Where did you get them?" I asked.
"'Twas the 'en as 'ad laid one," he replied. "And it began to brag so
much about it that I couldn't stand it, so I took the egg, and it
looked so lonely all by itself in my 'and that I took the others to
keep it company.
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