The canteen was, of course, under discipline and regulations. A corporal stood at the door to officially measure the pints of ale that trickled down the Militiamen’s necks. As soon as a man’s head wobbled, and his eyes rolled in a stupid and vacant style, he was seized by the scruff of the neck and given the order of the boot. If he objected, he was marched to the "clink" under escort. This was religiously adhered to in the Glesca Mileeshy for the first hour, but as the clock went round, the very thirsty corporals of this regiment sent duty and regulations to Hong-Kong, and sat down to partake of the feast given free because of their superior rank. Picture the scene, then,—a long, low room, packed with boozing schools, and badly lit with evil-smelling oil-lamps. Round the tables were seated some of the biggest rogues and many of the biggest-hearted souls in creation. In one corner, the corporal sat blind to all the world; while in the opposite part of the canteen Spud Tamson was seated amidst his new-found friends listening to the tales of woe and war. "Speakin’ aboot funny things," said Rab M’Ginty, "I mind when we were oot at the War on ootpost duty. It wis a rotten job—naethin’ but hard chuck an’ bully beef. An’ every nicht the enemy used tae open fire. We got fed up wi’ this, an’ thocht oot a scheme tae save us bother. D’ye ken what we did?’ "Na," said the others. "Weel, we got a’ the auld tin cans an’ auld dugs we could get oor haunds on. We tied the tin cans tae the barbed wire and every ten yerds we fixed a dug up on a chain." "Whut fur?" asked Tamson. "Tae rattle an’ bark when the enemy wis comin’. Man, it wis a great thing! And when on duty we could get tae sleep; for the dugs barked when they heard the least soond. But wan nicht we got a terrible fricht. Ye see it wis gey daurk and aboot midnicht, a’ the tin cans an’ dugs commenced tae rattle an’ bark. Then I heard something cherging up and doon the wires. So I let bang! That started it. In five meenits the hale army o’ ten thoosan’ men were firing. But the cans kept rattlin’ an’ the dugs barkin’. I wis shiverin’ wi’ fricht. Tae mak’ things worse, there was a terrible braying—an eerie noise in front o’ us. We couldnae stop it. Some said it wis auld Kruger’s ghost, others said it wis the Deevil himsel’; but, man, it wis awfu’. For twa hoors we fired ten thoosand roonds o’ ammuneeshin but that didnae end it." "Whut wis it?" queried the anxious and interested Spud. "Wait," said Rab. "We kept on firing till the dawn came. An’ then we saw them—dizens o’ them lyin’ deid." "The enemy?" some one asked. "Na! Donkeys." "Donkeys! Hoo wis that?" "Ye see, a’ the transport cuddies got loose an’ wandered. They got mixed up wi’ the wires an’ that wis the cause o’ the bother. Jist fancy, ten thoosan’ roonds tae kill three dizen cuddies." "Did ye get the V.C.?" queried Tamson. "V.C.! Nae fear. I got ten days in the nick for openin’ fire on His Majesty’s cuddies."