“Don’t you fergit it, Trooper Maffewson. I’m yore sooperier orficer. You _may_ be better’n me in the Ring, praps, or with the sword (Dam could have killed him in five minutes, with or without weapons), but if I ’olds up my little finger _you_ comes to ’eel—or other’ow you goes ter clink. ’Ung indeed! You look after yer own farver an’ don’ pass remarks on yer betters. Why! You boozin’ waster, I shall be Regimental Sargen’ Majer when you’re a bloomin’ discharged private wiv an ’undred ‘_drunks_’ in red on yer Defaulter’s Sheet. Regimental Sarjen’ Majer! I shall be an Orficer more like, and walk acrost the crossin’ wot _you’re_ asweepin’, to me Club in bloomin’ well Pickerdilly! Yus. This is the days o’ _? Demockerycy_, me lad. ‘Good Lloyd George’s golden days’ as they sing—and steady fellers like me is goin’ to ave C’missh’ns—an’ don’ you fergit it! Farver ’ung indeed!” “I’m awf’ly sorry, Corporal, really,” apologized Dam. “I didn’t think….” “No, me lad,” returned the unmollified superior, as he stooped to the other boot, “if you was to think more an’ booze less you’d do better…. ’Ow an’ where you gets ’old of it, beats me. I’ve seed you in delirium trimmings but I ain’t never seed you drinkin’ nor yet smelt it on yer. You’re a cunnin’ ’ound in yer way. One o’ them beastly secret-drinkin’ swine wots never suspected till they falls down ’owlin’ blue ’orrors an’ seem’ pink toadses. Leastways it’s snakes _you_ sees. See ’em oncte too orfen, you will…. See ’em on p’rade one day in front o’ the Colonel. Fall orf yer long-face an get trampled—an’ serve yer glad…. An’ now shut yer silly ’ed an’ don’t chew the mop so much. Let me get some sleep. _I_ ’as respontsibillaties _I_ do….” A crossing outside a Club! More likely a padded cell in a troopship and hospital until an asylum claimed him. In the finals, “Sword versus Sword Dismounted,” Dam had a foeman worthy of his steel. A glorious chilly morning, sunrise on a wide high open _maidan_, rows of tents for the spectators at the great evening final, and crowds of officers and men in uniform or gymnasium kit. On a group of chairs sat the Divisional General, his Colonel on the Staff, and Aide-de-Camp; the Brigadier-General, his Brigade-Major, and a few ladies, wives of regimental colonels, officers, and leading Civilians. Semi-finals of Tent-pegging, Sword v. Sword Mounted, Bayonet-fighting, Tug-of-War, Fencing, and other officers’ and men’s events had been, or were being, contested. The finals of the British Troops’ Sword _v._ Sword Dismounted, was being reserved for the last, as of supreme interest to the experts present, but not sufficiently spectacular to be kept for the evening final “show,” when the whole of Society would assemble to be thrilled by the final Jumping, Driving, Tent-pegging, Sword _v._ Sword Mounted, Bayonet-fighting, Sword _v._ Lance, Tug-of-War, and other events for British and Indian officers and men of all arms.