"'Hullo, Soldier,' says he. 'No, no, don't get up,' me trying to rise to me officer. 'We're both a bit dicky, I expect. How are you?' "'Nicely thank you, sir,' says I, choky. 'And you, sir?' "He smiles that way of his. "'I'll be better soon,' says he. But I knoo from the way of his voice he'd got his marchin orders all right; and I knoo e knoo'd it too." The little man was sniffing; and the tears were flowing down his nose. "'Take me to Sailor,' says he to the chaps. "So they took him to where pore old Pipes lay in his chair, his head lollin back, somethin dreadful to see. "The Genelman bends over him, and takes one of his hands. "That stirs the old man. "'That you, sir?' says he, usky-like. "'Ah, friend,' says the Genelman, 'how goes it?' "'Tarrabul ornary,' says pore old Pipes. "'You'll be better soon,' says the Genelman, strokin his hand. 'It's a rough passage,' says he, 'but it's Ome right enough once you're there.' "'Ome it is,' says Pipes, and back goes his head, and he was h'off again. "Then the Genelman turn to one of the chaps. "'Just spread your coat on that dresser, my man, will you?' he says. 'Now lift him gently. Don't wake him. He's set his course for the Old Country.... Now just lay me on the floor, and prop me up against the wall--same as Soldier there.'" Knapp was sobbing now. '"Same as Soldier there,' he repeated. 'There weren't to be no difference a-tween us. O no! 'Same as Soldier there,' he says--and me pull his nose only yesterday! And strike me dead!"--he lifted a streaming face--"if it didn't come over me all of a pop what Mr. Piper said about him and Jesus." II He pulled himself together and went on. "Then up come the orse-captain, great black charger in a lather. "'What luck?' says he. "'Why none,' says the foot-captain, little black and red chap, plumpy. 'The Grenadier chaps in the farm-buildings surrendered at discretion. Plucky fine sportsmen, these French beggars, ain't they?' "'Well, you was about a thousand to one, Chollie, so I don't know as I blames em,' says the orse-captain, laughin. "'All very well for _you_,' grumbles Plumpy, mighty bitter. 'I suppose you bagged all _your_ lot.' "'Every mother's son on em,' says t'other, chuckin himself off. 'Rare sport. Look there !' and he shows the edge of his sword. "'Just your luck, Bill,' says Chollie. 'I sweats my soul out to get up in time, and just when I'm there, up you larrups on them blame ole camels o your'n, and dashes the cup from my lips. Who'd be a--foot-slogger?' says he; and he takes the other by the arm; 'Now tell us all about it.' "'Why that's soon told,' says the orse-captain. 'Them we didn't cut up in the open, we run to earth in a drain, and pots em pretty from the mouth.' "'Any prisoners?' says Plumpy, mighty keen. "'There _was_ two,' says, the orse-captain, sniggerin. "Plumpy turns on his heel.