Bowdy was indeed a good man; a great fighter. In raids, in bayonet charges and bombing encounters he was a force to be reckoned with and never had an adversary been known to get the better of him. Persistence, staying power and dogged courage were his great assets, and these when taken in conjunction with his good humour and simple nature made him a loved comrade and worthy friend. Bowdy was now seated at the inn table, drinking beer with his mate, an alert youth with a snub nose and bright vivacious eyes. His name was Spudhole. Spudhole was a Londoner, a native of Walworth. His real name was Thomas Bubb, but his mates nicknamed him Spudhole, a slang term for the guard-room. The nickname became him, he liked it and was not a little proud of the fact that no man in the regiment spent as many days in the guard-room as did Rifleman Thomas Bubb. He was eternally guilty of trivial offences against Army regulations. This was in a great measure due to his inability to accommodate himself to a changed environment. He was a coster unchangeable and unchanged; to him an officer was always "Guv'nor," he addressed an officer as such, and the Colonel was the "ole bloke." His tongue was seldom quiet and the cries of his trade were ever on his tongue, even on parade he often gave them expression. He sang well, drank well, fought well, and loved practical jokes. Once at St. Albans he dressed himself up as a corporal, took two of his mates to the railway station and relieved the military police on duty there. Mistaking him for a real N.C.O. they left the station in his hands. Of course he took the first train to London. On his return he was awarded fourteen days' spud-hole. When in the guard-room he decided to escape and at the hour of twelve on the first night when a sentry stood on watch outside his prison Spudhole broke the window with a resounding thump. Then he rushed back and stood behind the door. He was in stocking-soles, his boots were slung round his shoulders by the laces. On hearing the crash the sentry opened the door, sprang into the room and hurried to the window thinking that Spudhole was trying to escape by that quarter--and Spudhole went out by the door. He was very good-natured, in fact quixotic. Once a recruit belonging to Bubb's section was so very slack that the officer brought him out in front of the squad and got him to perform several movements in musketry drill. The remainder of the party had to shout out when the man made any mistakes. As is usual, the onlookers saw many faults and shouted themselves hoarse. But Bubb was silent. When the slack recruit returned to his place in the ranks the officer spoke to Spudhole. "Did you notice any of those mistakes?" he asked. "Yes, sir," Bubb replied. "And why did you not say so?" enquired the officer. "Well, I didn't want to give the bloke away," was Bubb's answer.