Dudley beat all records in slipping off his Sam Browne and discarding the tunic, for by the time his companion had regained his feet the garment lay on the floor.
"Stamp on it!" yelled the now thoroughly excited and exasperated subaltern.
"It's my tunic, remember," protested Dudley firmly as he pushed his brother-officer aside.
Just then the door opened, and Spofforth, another member of the "Lone Star Crush" appeared, enquiring, "What's all the row about, you fellows? Scrapping?"
"Shut that door!" exclaimed Laxdale hurriedly. "Either in or out, old man."
The hunters suspended operations to wipe the streams of perspiration from their faces and to explain matters.
"Ratting, eh?" queried Spofforth. "You fellows look like a pair of Little Willies looting a French chateau."
"Hullo! More of 'em," murmured Laxdale as the door was unceremoniously pushed open and another of the "One Pip" officers made his appearance. "Look alive, Danvers, and don't stand there looking in the air. Walk in and take a pew, if you can find one."
"I've come to borrow a glass," remarked the latest arrival. "Mine's smashed and my batman hasn't unpacked my aluminium traps. Judging by appearances, by Jove! I've drawn a blank. What's up--a toppin' rag, or have the water pipes burst?"
Wilmshurst and Laxdale sat on the upper bunk, Spofforth on the closed lid of the wash-basin stand, and Danvers found a temporary resting-place on the none too rigid top of a cabin trunk. Each man kept his feet carefully clear of the floor, while four pairs of eyes were fixed upon Dudley's tunic, the folds of which were pulsating under the violent lung-movements of the sheltering rodent.
"Why not shake the brute out?" suggested Danvers.
"You try it," suggested Laxdale, whose enthusiasm was decidedly on the wane. "Wilmshurst here has turned mouldy. He refuses point blank to let me use his raiment of neutral colour as a door-mat. I might add that if you've ever had the experience of a particularly active member of the rodent family scampering down your back you wouldn't be quite so keen."
"How about turning out the machine-gun section?" asked Spofforth. "Look here, if you fellows want to be ready for tiffen you'd better get a move on. Suppose----"