his head on the table and howled. Hadn't we better do something?'
M'Turk was troubled. 'P'raps he's smashed himself up somehow.'
They found him, with very bright eyes, whistling between his teeth.
'Did I take you in, Beetle? I thought I would. Wasn't it a good draw? Didn't you think I was blubbin'? Didn't I do it well? Oh, you fat old ass!' And he began to pull Beetle's ears and cheeks, in the fashion that was called 'milking.'
'I knew you were blubbin',' Beetle replied composedly. 'Why aren't you at drill?'
'Drill! What drill?'
'Don't try to be a clever fool. Drill in the Gym.'
''Cause there isn't any. The volunteer cadet-corps is broke up—disbanded—dead—putrid—corrupt—stinkin'. An' if you look at me like that, Beetle, I'll slay you too. . . . Oh yes, an' I'm goin' to be reported to the Head for swearin'.
