Barry hated to waken him, but reveille was but a bare thirty minutes
off, and he had an experiment to work upon his friend.
"Bring the coffee, Harry. Not the bacon, yet," he ordered.
"Hello, Cameron, old boy! Wake up."
Cameron rolled over with a groan and opened his eyes, still dull and
heavy with sleep.
"Here you are. Pipe this down your tunnel and look lively, too. You have
got thirty minutes--twenty-five, really--to reveille, and you have your
toilet to perform--shave, massage, manicure and all the rest--so go to
it. Here's your tub. You can't get into it, but soap yourself over, and
Hobbs will sluice you with a pail or two outside."
"Why all this Spartan stuff? It's awfully cold. I think I'll content
myself with a nose rub this morning."
"Get out of bed, and be quick about it," commanded Barry, "unless you'd
rather take your tub where you are."
So saying he jerked the clothes clear off the cot, threatening Cameron
with the tub. Cameron sprang up, stripped, soaped himself over, groaning
and shivering the while; then stood outside in the open, while Hobbs
administered the order of the bath, and after a vigorous rub, came in
glowing.
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