book, sir,’ sez the colour-bloke.
“‘Never read it,’ sez the little man as calm as you please.
“‘I’m takin’ cover and hidin’, because I once got plugged in the neck by a Mauser bullet for not doin’ so. I am not retiring in open order accordin’ to the book because I tried something like it at Magersfontein and appeared in all the London papers the next mornin’ as ‘dangerously.’
A bugle call rang out sharp and clear, a, dozen tents disgorged one or two men, who buttoned their coats as they hurried to the guard tent.
“Defaulters,” said Smithy, shifting his position to one of greater comfort; “all young soldiers, an’ punishment’s good for ’em — it’s surprisin’ how a few kicks help a man in the Army.”
13. The Agitator
“Heard about our secret society?” asked Smithy.
I assured him that I had not heard the faintest whisper of anything so alarming.
Smithy laughed, as though he had suddenly remembered something amusing.
“Chap named Oats — Shaker Oats we call him — got nine months’ service, an’ to hear him talk you’d a-thought he was born in Buckin’ham Palace, the side he put on.
“He blew into the Army when no one was lookin’, and he was so surprised to find hisself in airproof clothes an’ boots that didn’t let in the showery weather that he began to swell; and when he’d got used to not feelin’ hungry he began to let on about the way the pore soldier was treated, an’ how civilians thought soldiers was dogs, an’ how we was defendin’ the Empire for a shillin’ to day whilst bits of putty-faced boys earnin’ a pound a week was walkin’ out our girls.
“One day Nobby comes to me an’ sez, ‘Where’s Oatsey?’
“‘Defendin’ the Empire,’ I sez, ‘by learnin’ which end of the rifle the bang comes from’ — for Oatsey about that time was doin’ his recruit’s course of musketry.
“‘Heard about the secret society?’ sez Nobby.
“‘Good Templars?’ I sez.
“‘No, Oatsey’s,’ sez Nobby.
“It appears that Oatsey got a lot of chaps together in the wet canteen an’ told ’em he was goin’ to form to secret society called ‘The Pore Soldiers’ Anti-Slavery League.’ The chaps wouldn’t listen to him at first, but he paid for a pint all round an’ told ’em all about it.
“The news that Oatsey was havin’ a meetin’ an’ standin’ free beer got out, an’ Nobby Clark was nearly trampled to death tryin’ to get into the canteen to second old Oatsey’s motion.
“Well, they got a lot of rules out, an’ a new kind of grip invented by Nobby, an’ a password, an’ a sign, so that everybody should know a brother.’
“It didn’t want no password or sign, or grip either.
“You couldn’t miss the brothers. They used to sit round Oatsey, sayin’ ‘Hear, hear,’ while Oatsey was payin’ for the beer, an’ when Oatsey had spent all his money, one of the brothers would rise an’ move that the meetin’ should adjourn till next pay-day.
“‘Our motter is,’ Oatsey would say, ‘a fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay, an’ one man’s as good as another’; an’ the general idea was that the secret society should be a trade union of soldiers.
“There was lots of special ideas, but most of ’em wasn’t worth mentionin’.
“One was that every brother should pay for his own beer. Oatsey put that in hisself, an’ it nearly broke up the society.
“Me and Nobby didn’t go to any of the meetin’s after that rule was made. Oatsey said that all the Army would join if we once got it fairly started.
“S’pose we was at war.
“The 1st Anchesters (the Anchester branch of the Pore Soldiers’ Anti-Slavery League, as it’d be then) would be waitin’ to attack.
“Up gallops one of the glitterin’ staff.
“‘Take your battalion forward, Colonel Gollingham,’ he sez.
“‘Very good, sir,’ sez the Colonel, an’ orders the bugler to sound the advance.
“Not a chap moves.
“‘What the somethin’ bad does this mean?’ yells the Colonel. ‘Advance! you unmentionable horrors!’
“Then Oatsey steps out of the ranks — him bein’ the perpetual President of the League — with all his sashes an’ decorations on.
“‘Beg pardon, sir,’ he sez, ‘we can’t go on. A fair day’s work for a fair day’s pay,’ he sez, ‘is a motter we all adore, an’ we’ve done our eight hours already.’
“‘But,’ sez the Colonel, ‘think of the regiment — think of yourselves — think of the country.’
“‘There ain’t no joy in workin’ unless you’re workin’ for yourself,’ Oatsey sez gloomily; ‘the country can look after itself, an’ as to the trade — I mean the reg’ment — we only do what we do because we’re paid for it.’
“By this time the Colonel’s half orf his head.
“‘But the enemy — you blitherin’ flat-footed ass — they’ll defeat us — they’ll—’
“‘We’re indifferent to the enemy,’ sez Oatsey proudly, ‘an’ the sooner they know it the better.’
“Or p’raps,” Smithy went on, letting his fancy run free, “p’raps we’re advancin’ in workin’ hours, an’ suddenly Oatsey shouts out, ‘Halt!’
“Along comes the Colonel, sayin’ ‘Rotterdam’ as fast as he can.
“‘What’s the meanin’ of this?’ he sez.
“‘Very sorry,’ sez Oatsey, as cool as you please, ‘but we can’t charge alongside of the North Wessex Regiment.’
“‘Why?’ sez the Colonel, among other things.
“‘Because,’ sez Oatsey, ‘the North Wessex is a non-union regiment,’ he sez, an’ wot’s more, the Colonel of the Wessex has got shares in a tied-house brewery, wot’s a monopoly.’
“‘Think of the honour of the country,’ sez the pore old Colonel.
“‘I can’t,’ sez Oatsey, as bold as brass, ‘an’ wot’s more, I can’t let the members — I mean the men — think either; it would overstrain their physical capacity,’ sez Oatsey.
“So we get defeated again,” said Smithy, with some relish. “Sometimes the Army would stand out for extra overtime, just when the enemy was gettin’ guns into position; sometimes we’d want to knock off on Saturdays at two o’clock. Sometimes, at the minute the enemy was goin’ to strike, we’d strike too.
“That was Oatsey’s idea.
“He said one man was as good as another, an’ every man that worked for hisself was workin’ for the country, an’ it didn’t much matter about the country, anyway.
“One night I met Nobby Clark down town.
“‘Smithy,’ he sez ‘ do you want to join another secret society?
“‘ Who’s payin’