Fwhat was I sayin'? Eyah, eyah, them was the bhoys for the dhrink.
When the sun kem out wid a blink in his oi, an' the belly-band av his
new shoot tied round him, there was PORTERS and ATHUS lyin' mixed up
wid the brandy-kegs, and the houl of the rigimint tearin' round like
all the divils from hell bruk loose.

"Thin I knew there'd be thrubble, for ye must know, Sorr, there was a
little orf'cer bhoy cryin' as tho' his little heart was breakin', an'
the Colonel's wife's sister, wid her minowderin' voice--"

"Look here, O'RAMMIS," I said, "I don't like to stop you; but isn't it
just a trifle rash--I mean," I added hastily, for I saw him fingering
his bayonet, "is it quite as wise as it might be to use up all your
materials at once? Besides, I seem to have met that little Orf'cer
bhoy and the Colonel's wife's sister before. I merely mention it as
a friend."

"You let 'im go, Sir," put in PORTERS, with his cockney accent. "Lor,
Sir, TERENCE knows bloomin' well wot 'e's torkin' about, an' wen
'e's got a story to tell you know there ain't one o' us wot'll get a
bloomin' word in; or leastways, Hi carn't."

"Sitha," added JOCK ATHUS. "I never gotten but one story told mysen,
and he joomped down my throaat for that. Let un taalk, Sir, let un
taalk."

"Very well," I said, producing one of the half-dozen bottles of
champagne that I always carried in my coat-tail pockets whenever I
went up to the Barracks to visit my friend O'RAMMIS, "very well. Fire
away, TERENCE, and let us have your story."