y guns you've a-took
Plymouth in the rear. You follow me?" Corporal Sandercock stood up
and picked up a crumb or two of tobacco from the creases of his
tunic. "I'll go fetch a fatigue party to harvest these spuds o'
yours," said he. "There'll be compensation for disturbance. If you
like, you can come along an' bargain it out wi' the O.C."

"No," said Nicky-Nan, snatching at this happy chance. "I'm a lame
one, as you see. What must be, must, I suppose: but while you step
along I'll bide here."

"So long, then!"

The corporal had no sooner turned his back than Nicky began to unwrap
his bundle in a fumbling haste. He watched the rotund figure as it
waddled away over the rise; and so, dropping on his knees, fell to
work furiously. The sun was already making its warmth felt. In less
than five minutes the sweat trickled off his forehead and dropped on
his wrists as he dug with his unhandy trowel and grabbed at the soil.

Something more than a quarter of an hour had passed when, looking up
for the fiftieth time, he spied the corporal returning down the
grassy slope, alone. By this time his job was nearly done; and after
finishing it he had the presence of mind to dig up a quart or so of
potatoes and spread them over the gold coins in his sack.

"What in thunder's your hurry?" demanded the corporal, halting for a
moment on the crest of the rise and gazing down. "I told you as I'd
fetch a party to clear the patch for you; an', what's more, the spuds
shall be delivered to your door sometime this very day. But the
Captain can't spare a man this side o' nine o'clock, an' so I was to
tell you." He descended the slope, mopping his brow. "Pretty good
tubers?"

Nicky-Nan hypocritically dived a hand into the sack, drew forth a
fistful, and held them out in his open palm.

"Ay, and a very tidy lot," the corporal nodded. "And what might be
the name of 'em?"

"_Duchess o' Cornwall_ they're called: one o' the new Maincrops, an'
one o' the best. East-country grown. You may pull half a dozen or
so for yourself if you'll do me the favour to accept 'em."

"Thank 'ee, friend. There's nothin' I relish more than a
white-fleshed 'taty, well-grown an' well-boiled. Not a trace o'
disease anywhere," observed the corporal, running his eye over the
rows and bringing it to rest on the newly-turned soil at his feet.
"Eh? Hullo!"

He stooped and picked up a sovereign.

"That's mine!" Nicky-Nan claimed it hastily. "I mu