Part 32 (1/2)

”Catter wot? You drunken 'og,” drawled the Corporal. ”Catter_waulin'_ more like it. Under arrest you goes, my lad. Now you _'ave_ done it.

'Ere, 'Awker, run down an' call up the Sergeant o' the Guard an' tell 'im Maffewson's left 'is post. 'E'll 'ave to plant annuvver sentry.

Maffewson goes ter clink.”

”Yes--but send for the Surgeon and the key of the mortuary too,”

begged Dam. ”I give you fair warning that Priddell is alive and groaning and off the bier--”

”Pity _you_ ain't 'off the beer' too,” said the Corporal with a yawn.

”Well--there are witnesses that I brought the report to you. If Priddell is found dead on the ground to-morrow you'll have to answer for manslaughter.”

”'Ere, _chuck_ it you snaike-seeing delirying trimmer, _will_ yer!

Give anyone the 'orrers to listen to yer! When Priddell is wrote off as 'Dead' 'e _is_ dead, whether 'e likes it or no,” and he turned to give orders to the listening guard to arrest Trooper Matthewson.

The Sergeant of the Guard arrived at the ”double,” followed by Trooper Bear carrying a hurricane-lamp.

”What's the row?” panted the Sergeant. ”Matthewson on the booze agin?”

”I report that there is a living man in the mortuary, Sergeant,”

replied Dam. ”Priddell is not dead. I heard him groan, and I scrambled up to the grating and saw him lying on the ground by the door.”

”Well, you'll see yerself groanin' an' lyin' on the ground in the Digger, now,” replied the Sergeant, and, as much in sorrow as in anger, he added, ”An' _you_'re the bloke I signed a pet.i.tion for his permotion are yer? At it agin a'ready!”

”But, good Heavens, man, can't you see I'm as sober as you are, and much less excited? Can't you send for the key of the mortuary and call the doctor? The poor chap may die for your stupidity.”

”You call _me_ a 'man' again, my lad, an' I'll show you what a Sergeant can do fer them as 'e don't like! As fer 'sober'--I've 'ad enough o' you 'sober'. W'y, in two ticks you may be on the ground 'owlin' and bellerin' and squealin' like a Berks.h.i.+re pig over the blood-tub. _Sober_! Yus--I seen you at it.”

”Why on earth can't you come and _prove_ I'm drunk or mad,” besought Dam. ”Open the mortuary and prove I'm wrong--and then put me under arrest. Call the Surgeon and say the sentry over the mortuary reports the inmate to be alive--_he_ has heard of catalepsy and comatose collapse simulating death if _you_ haven't.”

”Don' use sech 'orrible languidge,” besought the respectable Corporal Prag.

”Ho, yus! _I_'m agoin' to see meself whipt on the peg fer turnin' out the Surgin from 'is little bed in the middle o' the night--to come an'

'ave a look at the dead corpse 'e put in orders fer the Dead 'Ole, ain't I? Jest becos the champion snaike-seer o' E Troop's got 'em agin, wot?”

Corporal Prag laughed merrily at the wit of his superior.

Turning to Bear, whom he knew to be as well educated as himself, Dam remarked:--

”Poor chap has rallied from the cholera collapse and could probably be saved by stimulants and warmth. This suspended animation is common enough in cholera. Why, the Brahmins have a regular ritual for dealing with cases of recovery on the funeral pyre--purification after defilement by the corpse-washers or something of the sort. These stupid oafs are letting poor Priddell die--”

”What! you drunken talkin' parrot,” roared the incensed Sergeant.

”'Ere, sling 'is drunken rotten carkis--”