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S.O.S. Stand to! by Reginald Grant
page 106 of 202 (52%)

Our glee was positively fiendish next day when watching Hambone
wriggling uneasily in his clothes at parade. Gunboat had sent us an
underground message telling us what he did, and we did not fail to
recognize the symptoms at once; every moment he got a chance he was
scratching himself; and as soon as he had the opportunity he made for
the nearest tree and, rubbing his back violently against it, almost wore
a hole in his coat. Miserable were his moments throughout that day. "'Ow
in 'ell can a man fight an' scratch at the same time!" he would snort.

There was no let up to his officiousness, however; his damnable orders
were as numerous as before; so we concluded to hatch a scheme that would
most effectively put him on the blink, and the opportunity occurred the
very next night. Hambone was detailed to proceed to the guns, to relieve
the Sergeant-Major there, and it was his duty to take charge of the
supply wagon that carried the supplies for the men there, and by chance
there was among the rations this time a jar of rum. Accompanying Hambone
were Snow and Reynolds of our section, they sitting in the back end of
the wagon. They had barely started when Snow discovered the rum jar, and
he and Reynolds at once got their wits working as to how they could get
away with it. When about half-way there, Hambone, to stretch his legs,
got off the wagon and walked alongside, and Snow instantly whispered to
Reynolds, "get off and walk with him and tell him you hear a shell
coming." Reynolds did as directed and Hambone ducked for cover and the
wagon stood stock still. No sooner was the First Sergeant's back turned
than Reynolds threw the jar into the ditch.

A minute or two elapsed and no explosion taking place, Hambone rejoined
the wagon and the party proceeded. Then Snow slipped off the back and
went back for the jar, but instead of going up the road, he took the
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