''Twas a dear little orf'cer bhoy, an' by way av kapin' his heart up, I tould him fwhat I saw wanst in a draf' in Egypt.' 'What was that, Mulvaney?' said I. 'Sivin an' fifty men sittin' on the bank av a canal, laughin' at a poor little squidgereen av an orf'cer that they'd made wade into the slush an' pitch the things out av the boats for their Lord High Mightinesses. That made me orf'cer bhoy woild with indignation. '“Soft an' aisy, Sorr,” sez I; “you've niver had your draf' in hand since you left cantonmints. Wait till the night, an' your work will be ready to you. Wid your permission, Sorr, I will investigate the camp, an' talk to my ould frinds. 'Tis no manner av use thryin' to shtop the divilment _now._” 'Wid that I wint out into the camp an' inthrojuced mysilf to ivry man sober enough to remimber me. I was some wan in the ould days, an' the bhoys was glad to see me--all excipt Peg Barney wid a eye like a tomata five days in the bazar, an' a nose to match. They come round me an' shuk me, an' I tould thim I was in privit employ wid an income av me own, an' a drrrawin'-room fit to bate the Quane's; an' wid me lies an' me shtories an' nonsinse gin'rally, I kept 'em quiet in wan way an' another, knockin' roun' the camp. 'Twas _bad_ even thin whin I was the Angil av Peace. 'I talked to me ould non-coms--_they_ was sober--an' betune me an' thim we wore the draf' over into their tents at the proper time. The little orf'cer bhoy he comes round, decint an' civil-spoken as might be. '“Rough quarters, men,” sez he, “but you can't look to be as comfortable as in barricks. We must make the best av things. I've shut my eyes to a dale av dog's tricks today, an' now there must be no more av ut.” '“No more we will. Come an' have a dhrink, me son,” sez Peg Barney, staggerin' where he stud. Me little orf'cer bhoy kep' his timper. '“You're a sulky swine, you are,” sez Peg Barney, an' at that the men in the tent began to laugh. 'I tould you me orf'cer bhoy had bowils. He cut Peg Barney as near as might be on the oi that I'd squshed whin we first met. Peg wint spinnin' acrost the tent. '“Peg him out, Sorr,” sez I, in a whishper. '“Peg him out!” sez me orf'cer bhoy, up loud, just as if 'twas battalion-p'rade an' he pickin' his wurrds from the Sargint. 'The non-coms tuk Peg Barney--a howlin' handful he was--an' in three minutes he was pegged out--chin down, tight-dhrawn--on his stummick, a tent-peg to each arm an' leg, swearin' fit to turn a naygur white. 'I tuk a peg an' jammed ut into his ugly jaw.--“Bite on that, Peg Barney,” I sez; “the night is settin' frosty, an' you'll be wantin' divarsion before the mornin'. But for the Rig'lations you'd be bitin' on a bullet now at the thriangles, Peg Barney,” sez I. 'All the draf' was out av their tents watchin' Barney bein' pegged. '“'Tis agin the Rig'lations! He strook him!” screeches out Scrub Greene, who was always a lawyer; an' some of the men tuk up the shoutin'.