"Hi bet you do know!"

"Aw, what the hell are you getting at? Don't try any of that on me or
I'll have you up for office," I threatened.

He didn't seem to be getting anywhere in his efforts to find out the
guilty ones, so he did the next best thing.

"Sergeant Grant, take six of your men and put that 'ouse back." There
was nothing for it but to obey, but I made a mental resolve he would
never sleep in that shack that night at least. We took hold all together
and lifted it up, and on the way over I purposely stumbled in such a way
that the mansion of Hambone fell on one corner and with the fall it came
tumbling to pieces.

Our arch-enemy composed himself to sleep that night in the guard room,
as none of us would give him room in our quarters, and it so happened
that Gunboat Stevens was in the clink at the time for having called him
"Hambone." They occupied the same room, his bed immediately opposite the
First Sergeant's, with just a foot or two of space between the bottom of
each bed. As may be imagined, no kindly good nights passed between the
two.

Now Davis had just been over from England but a short time and was
comparatively clean in his person, while Stevens was lousy, and to
complete the diabolism of the revenge, Gunboat, instead of throwing his
shirt on the floor as he usually did, watched his opportunity and when
he heard a snore from Hambone that had no camouflage in it, he slipped
his shirt in at the head of the bed where our official tormentor
reposed.