'An' since 'twas very clear we drank only ginger-beer, Faith, there must ha'been some stingo in the ginger.' Come back, you maniac. I'm going to take you home, and you're going to lie down. CAPT. G. What on earth do I want to lie down for? CAPT. M. Give me a light from your cheroot and see. CAPT. G. (_Watching cheroot-butt quiver like a tuning-fork_.) Sweet state I'm in! CAPT. M. You are. I'll get you a peg and you'll go to sleep. _They return and M. compounds a four-finger peg_. CAPT. G. O _bus! bus!_ It'll make me as drunk as an owl. CAPT. M. Curious thing, 'twon't have the slightest effect on you. Drink it off, chuck yourself down there, and go to bye-bye. CAPT. G. It's absurd. I shan't sleep. I _know_ I shan't! _Falls into heavy doze at end of seven minutes_. CAPT. M. _watches him tenderly_. CAPT. M. Poor old Gaddy! I've seen a few turned off before, but never one who went to the gallows in this condition. 'Can't tell how it affects 'em, though. It's the thoroughbreds that sweat when they're backed into double-harness.-And that's the man who went through the guns at Amdheran like a devil possessed of devils. (_Leans over_ G.) But this is worse than the guns, old pal--worse than the guns, isn't it? (_G. turns in his sleep, and M. touches him clumsily on the forehead_.) Poor, dear old Gaddy! Going like the rest of 'em-going like the rest of 'em---Friend that sticketh closer than a brother---eight years. Dashed bit of a slip of a girl-eight weeks! And-where's your friend? (_Smokes disconsolately till church clock strikes three_.) CAPT. M. Up with you! Get into your kit. CAPT. G. Already? Isn't it too soon? Hadn't I better have a shave? CAPT. M. NO! You're all right. (_Aside_.) He'd chip his chin to pieces. CAPT. G. What's the hurry? CAPT. M. You've got to be there first. CAPT. G. To be stared at? CAPT. M. Exactly. You're part of the show. Where's the burnisher? Your spurs are in a shameful state. CAPT. G. (_Gruffly_) Jack, I be damned if you shall do that for me. CAPT. M. (_More gruffly._) Dry up and get dressed! If I choose to clean your spurs, you're under _my_ orders. CAPT. G. _dresses_. M. _follows suit._ CAPT. M. (_Critically, walking round._) M'yes, you'll do. Only don't look so like a criminal. Ring, gloves, fees--that's all right for me. Let your moustache alone. Now, if the ponies are ready, we'll go. CAPT. G. (_Nervously._) It's much too soon. Let's light up! Let's have a peg! Let's-- CAPT. M. Let's make bally asses of ourselves! BELLS. (_Without._)-- 'Good--peo--ple--all To prayers--we call.” CAPT. M. There go the bells! Come on--unless you'd rather not. (_They ride off._) BELLS.-- 'We honour the King And Brides joy do bring-- Good tidings we tell, And ring the Dead's knell.' CAPT. G. (_Dismounting at the door of the Church._) I say, aren't we much too soon? There are no end of people inside. I say, aren't we much too late? Stick by me, Jack! What the devil do I do?