"What did you do that for?"
"What did your dog run at me for?"
"Why didn't you hit him with the other end?"
"Why didn't he come at me with his other end?"
Gunboat Stevens was another of the plotters; his suggestions were so
unique and uncommon that each of them sent us into an uncontrollable
roar of laughter. Unfortunately, as we thought, they were usually as
impracticable as they were strange. This member of our gang derived his
alias from his warm adherence to the navy as against the army. Never was
there an argument started about the navy that it did not have a burning
advocate in Stevens; he would even go to the length of challenging any
man in the crowd to fight him then and there who had the temerity to
claim that the Empire had as good a defender in the military as in the
naval arm of the government.
We also had a Jesse James; his surname was really James and it was easy
fitting on the handle.
The conference finally resolved itself into a determination to burn his
new-made bivouac, but I dissuaded them and convinced them that it would
be much better for them to lug it over to the incinerator and throw it
into the pit.
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