Strongly suspecting by that time that if Scotty were anywhere on earth
he was at the rear in the wagon line, I waited around the station just
long enough to lend plausibility to my search before reporting to the
O.C. The Major was in a towering rage over our losses, and, damning the
cook, he dismissed me. The officers that night had to look to another
cookhouse for their evening meal.
Next morning I was sent for by the Major and dispatched to the wagon
lines on an errand;--at that time I was fulfilling the duties of a
runner for our unit;--he also told me to have a lookout for the cook
while there and make some inquiries about him. I saluted and left. The
first place I went to in the wagon lines was the cookhouse and as I got
there I thought I noticed the swish of someone quickly disappearing
round the corner and the cockney-cook there informed me that Scotty had
spent the previous evening with them and had only left a minute ago.
"'E's no slouch, that cook of yours," he said, "'e's a fighter, 'e is."
"That so?"
"You're right, 'e is.
Pages:
27
28
29
30
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51