star-spangled bearing-rein and surcingle to improve her fig-u-are; did
pretty parlour tricks to the strains of the banjo and psaltery.
_N'est-ce pas, chérie?_

_Skewbald_. Well, what if I did? There's scores of circus-gals is
puffect lydies. I don't require none of your familiarity any'ow, Mister.

_Bay_. Beg pardon. Excuse my bluff soldierly ways; but nevertheless take
your nose out of my hay-net, please.

_A Canadian dun_. Gee! quit weavin' about like that, Tubby. Can't you
let a guy get some sleep. I'll hand you a cold rebuff in the ribs in a
minute. Wazzer matter with you, anyhow?

_Tubby_. Had a bad dream.

_Black_. Don't wonder, the way you over-eat yourself.

_Bay_. Ever know a Quartermaster's horse that didn't? He's the only one
that gets the chance.

_Skewbald_. And the Officers' chargers.

_Voice from over the way_. Well, we need it, don't we? We do all the
bally head-work.

_Bay_. Hearken even unto the Honourable Montmorency. Hello, Monty there!
Never mind about the bally head-work, but next time you're out
troop-leading try to steer a course somewhat approaching the straight.
You had the line opening and shutting like a concertina this morning.