into the ditch.

A minute or two elapsed and no explosion taking place, Hambone rejoined
the wagon and the party proceeded. Then Snow slipped off the back and
went back for the jar, but instead of going up the road, he took the
railroad track, beating the wagon by some minutes and hiding his jar of
joy in my gun pit, immediately got back and was standing beside the
wagon when it arrived. Hambone seeing him there hadn't the remotest idea
that he had hopped off at any time, and supposed that he had ridden the
entire way with them. Snow gave Reynolds the wink and he knew the prize
was safe.

The first thing Hambone did was to go to the back of the wagon for the
jar. It was gone! He searched wildly about for a moment, asking first
one and then the other what had become of it, and Snow volunteered the
opinion that probably it had dropped off when the wagon lurched that
time he thought the shell was coming. There was nothing for it but to
report his loss, and the only excuse he could give was that the rum had
probably rolled off when they trotted at a coming shell, and what the
officer didn't say to Hambone for trotting, which was a violation of
orders, would not be worth repeating. He bellowed at him to go and
search for it, and with wicked delight we watched the duffer going back
over the route, peering from side to side of the road in his vain
search.

The journey was a nine-mile trot and he covered more than half the
distance, endeavoring to find the precious container, and when he came
back in a couple of hours without it, the poor devil thought he was
going to be licked, such was the anger of the men at missing their rum
rations, because they sorely needed it; none but those who have been
there can and do appreciate how sorely it is needed in that region of
the world.

I make no apology or attempt to excuse myself as an accessory after the
fact. It is an unwritten law among the men that the only crime involved
in stealing liquor is--using an Irishism--not to steal it.

The only men in the section that night who had a ration of the treasured
fluid were Dick Snow, Reynolds and myself, and in the midst of our
conviviality we prophesied that if Hambone survived this disaster, he
was immortal.

Toasting the health of the King, the army, the navy and our loved ones
at home, we retired in blissful consciousness of a good job well done.

Next morning, black looks and cursing threats in low voices greeted
Hambone on all