hen we was diggin' one of our chaps out of a Jack
Johnson 'ole, and some bloomin' blighter pinched it! Now that's a thing
as I don't 'old with. Rotten, I call it. I wouldn't say nothing about
it, mind you, if I was dead; I like to 'ave something as belonged to a
comrade, myself, an' I know as 'e'd feel the same, seein' as 'e couldn't
want it 'imself. But, if you take a feller's things w'en 'e's alive,
why, you don't know 'ow bad 'e might want 'em some day."

"Corporal 'e ses to me, las' kit inspection," broke in the fresh-faced
youth, disregarding this nice point of ethics, "'W'ere's your
tooth-brush?' 'e ses. 'Where you won't find it,' I ses. ''Oo're you
talkin' to?' 'e ses. 'Dunno,' I ses; 'the ticket's fell off!... Wot
d'yer call yourself, any'ow,' I ses, 'you an' yer stripe?' I ses. 'Funny
bundle,' I ses, 'that's what I call you!'"

"Well, I don't see wot a feller's got to do," said the propounder of the
problem, returning to the charge. "Granted as 'e can't walk about naked;
granted as 'e 'asn't got a suit o' civvies of 'is own--wot _is_ 'e to
do?"

"'Ang on to 'is kar-kee" said the hoarse-voiced man. The setter-down of
corporals retired within himself, probably to compose some humorous
repartee.

The warrant officer came out of _Freckles_ and suggested writing a
letter.

"'E 'as done. 'E's wrote an' told 'em 'as 'e can't send 'is kar-kee back
until 'e gets a suit o' Martin 'Enry's or thirty bob in loo of same. An'
all as they done was to write again an' demand 'is uniform at once."

The warrant officer sighed and opined that orders were orders.

"Yes, but 'e 'd 'ave to carry 'em to the Post Office naked, wouldn't 'e?
An' 'ow about goin' to buy new ones? That's if 'e 'd drawed 'is pay,
which 'e 'asn't. Unreasonable, that's wot I calls it."

"'Asn't 'e got no civvies at all?" said the small man, beginning to look
sceptical. "'Asn't 'e got no one as 'd lend 'im a soot? Anyways, 'e
could get some one to post 'em for 'im, an' then stop in bed till 'is
others come."

"'E's a very lonely feller," said the champion of the unclad; "'e lives
in lodgin's, an 'e 'asn't got no friends. If 'e 'adn't got no clothes
for to fetch 'is pay in, wot then?"

A gloomy silence, a silence fraught with the inevitability of destiny,
settled on the party.

The warrant officer, who had been pretending to resume _Freckles_,
presently looked up and suggested that he could go in his uniform to a
tailor, explain the position and obt