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"
"Why don't you come yourself, sonny?" inquired McCuaig. With a swift
sidestep and a swifter swoop of his long arm, he reached for the
corporal, who once more found safety in swift disappearance.
At that instant, the Highlander, seeing his opportunity, flung himself
upon McCuaig, and winding his arms around him, hung to him grimly,
crying out:
"Get hold of his legs! Queeck! Will you?"
When the sergeant major, attracted by the unwonted uproar, appeared upon
the scene, there was a man on every one of McQuaig's limbs, and another
one astride his stomach. "Heavin' like sawlogs shootin' a rapid," as
Private Corbin, a lumberjack from the Eau Claire, was later heard to
remark.
"What is he like now?" inquired the colonel, after listening to the
sergeant major's report of the Homeric combat.
"He is in a compartment in the hold, sir, and raging like one demented.
He very nearly did for Major Bustead, smashing at him with a scantling
that he ripped from the ship's timbers, sir. He still has the scantling,
sir.


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