get it, then? Took it! Was
Monsieur Waring in the habit of helping himself to the property of his
brother officers? Yes, whenever he felt like it, for they never
objected. The legal official thought such spirit of _camaraderie_ in the
light artillery must make life at the barracks something almost poetic,
to which Cram responded, "Oh, at times absolutely idyllic." And the tilt
ended with the civil functionary ruffled, and this was bad for the
battery. Cram never had any policy whatsoever.

Lieutenant Doyle was the next witness summoned, and a more
God-forsaken-looking fellow never sat in a shell jacket. Still in
arrest, physically, at the beck of old Braxton, and similarly hampered,
intellectually, at the will of bold John Barleycorn, Mr. Doyle came
before the civil authorities only upon formal subpoena served at post
head-quarters. The post surgeon had straightened him up during the day,
but was utterly perplexed at his condition. Mrs. Doyle's appearance in
the neighborhood some weeks before had been the signal for a series of
sprees on the Irishman's part that had on two occasions so prostrated
him that Dr. Potts, an acting assistant surgeon, had been called in to
prescribe for him, and, thanks to the vigorous constitution of his
patient, had pulled him out in a few hours. But this time "Pills the
Less" had found Doyle in a state bordering on terror, even when assured
that the quantity of his potations had not warranted an approach to
tremens. The post surgeon had been called in too, and "Pills the
Pitiless," as he was termed, thanks to his unfailing prescription of
quinine and blue mass in the shape and size of buckshot, having no
previous acquaintance, in Doyle, with these attacks, poohpoohed the
case, administered bromides and admonition in due proportion, and went
off about more important business. Dr. Potts, however, stood by his big
patient, wondering what should cause him to start in such terror at
every step upon the stair without, and striving to bring sleep to eyes
that had not closed the livelong night nor all the balmy, beautiful day.
Once he asked if Doyle wished him to send for his wife, and was startled
at the vehemence of the reply, "For God's sake, no!" and, shuddering,
Doyle had hidden his face and turned away. Potts got him to eat
something towards noon, and Doyle begged for more drink, but was
refused. He was sober, yet shattered, when Mr. Drake suddenly appeared
just about stable-call and bade him