ʻ “Well, gentlemen,” I said, “I’d hate to have been the death of any of you; and if a prisoner can deed away his property, I’d love to present the Captain here with what he’s seen fit to leave of my Zigler.
‘ “Thanks awf’ly,” says my Captain. “I’d like her very much. She’d look fine in the mess at Woolwich. That is, if you don’t mind, Mr. Zigler.”
‘ “Go right ahead,” I says. “I’ve come out of all the mess I’ve any use for; but she’ll do to spread the light among the Royal British Artillery.”
‘I tell you, Sir, there’s not much of anything the matter with the Royald British Artillery. They’re brainy men languishing under an effete system which, when you take good holt of it, is England—just all England. ’Times I’d feel I was talking with real live citizens, and times I’d feel I’d struck the Beef-eaters in the Tower.
‘How? Well, this way. I was telling my Captain Mankeltow what Van Zyl had said about the British being all Chamberlains when the old man saw him back from hospital four days ahead of time.
‘“Oh, dam it all!” he says, as serious as the Supreme Court. “It’s too bad,” he says. “Johanna must have misunderstood me, or else I’ve got the wrong Dutch word for these blarsted days of week. I Told Johanna I’d be out on Friday. The woman’s a fool. Oah, da-am it all!” he says. “I wouldn’t have sold old Van Zyl a pup like that,” he says. “I’ll hunt him up and apologise.”
