"'You sir? you're unfit for duty, and I'll report you, sir, at
headquarters,' said the aid, who was a West Pointer, you know, stiff as
a poker in regimentals.

"'Sir!--hic,' replied Tim, with an attempt at offended dignity, the
effect of which was rather spoiled by the accompanying hiccough.

"'Where's the colonel!' asked the aid.

"'Drunk,' says that rascal, Tim, confidentially, with a knowing wink.

"'Where's the adjutant?'

"'Drunk.'

"'Good God, sir, are you all drunk?'

"''Cept the surgeon--he's got the measles.'

"'Orderly, give this dispatch, to the first sober officer you can
find.'

"'It's no use, captain,' says Tim, 'the regiment's drunk--'cept me,
hic!' and Tim lost his balance, and tumbled over the orderly, for you
see the captain put spurs to his horse rather suddenly, and whisked the
friendly tail out of his hands.

"So we were all up before the general the next day, but swore ourselves
clear, all except Tim, who had the circumstantial evidence rather too