"How can they let him off easy? Why, if they did, half the roughs of the regiment would be off at once." "Ah! I didn't think of that," said Jerry, sadly. "But s'pose he comes back of himself?" "He'll be punished, but not so severely." "And s'pose he don't come back?" "Don't suppose any confounded nonsense," said the fat sergeant, wiping his moist forehead. "I'd have given anything--sooner than it should have happened. There's that twopenny-fife of a man, Wilkins, squeaking about it all over the place. Hang him! I should like to punch his miserable little head, only my hands are so fat they'd feel like boxing-gloves to him. What do you think he said just now?" "As he was glad Smithson had gone?" "No; I'd have believed him for that. He never liked the lad, and it would only have been the honest truth. He said that it was a painful thing; but, under the circumstances, he should advise every man to examine his kit, and see that his instruments were all right." "What did he mean by that?" cried Jerry. "Mean! Why, for the men to see that the poor lad hadn't carried off anything that didn't belong to him." "Well!" cried Jerry, fiercely, "of all! Here! I can't stand that!" "Hold hard!" cried the fat sergeant, catching his arm. "Where are you going?" "To the bandmaster," cried Jerry, "to have it out with him. My hands won't feel like gloves!" "Stop where you are!" growled the sergeant. "Never mind Wilkins. You don't want to get in a row. Do you want to strike your officer?" "Officer!" cried Jerry, excitedly; "officer! I don't call that combination of a thing an officer!" "You be quiet," said Brumpton. "We've said enough as it is." "No, sir, we ain't! and, soldier or no soldier, I'm a man, and not going to have things like that spoken about my comrade--and such a comrade as him!" "Be quiet, I tell you!" said Brumpton; and the man's tone and manner made Jerry forget that he was so pincushion-like in appearance. "I don't want you to get in trouble, too!" "And I don't want to get in trouble," said Jerry; "but I don't call it manly for a lot of fellows who knew Dick Smithson to be a reg'lar gent to the backbone to stand there and hear that mean little wax-match of a man, without saying a word or sticking up for him!" "Who said nobody stuck up for him?" said Brumpton. "You never said anyone did!" "Well, they did!" said Brumpton. "Oh, that's better! What did they say?" "As soon as he spoke like that, a lot of the men began to hiss." "Hiss!" cried Jerry, contemptuously; "why, a goose on Clapham Common could do that!" "And then," continued Brumpton, "Wilkins began to blink over his music-stand, looking as red in the face as his uniform. `Who was that?' he says--`who was it that dared to make that noise?'" "And then no one spoke," sneered Jerry. "Hissed! I'd ha' punched his head. Bandmaster, indeed!--I'd ha' been the bandmaster's master that time!"