Part 14 (1/2)
General Napoleon Smith put on his most field-marshalish expression, and summoned Sir Toady Lion to approach.
He tapped him on the shoulder and said in a grand voice, ”I create you General of the Comm'sariat for distinguished conduct in the field.
From this time forth you can keep the key of the biscuit box, but I know just how many are in. So mind out!”
This was good, and Toady Lion was duly grateful; but he wished his good fortune put into a more concrete form.
”Can I have the biggest and nicerest saucer of the sc.r.a.pings of the preserving-pan to-night?”
Hugh John considered a moment. An impulse of generosity swept over him.
”Yes, you can,” he said n.o.bly. Then a cross wave of caution caused him to add--”that is, if it isn't rasps!”
Now the children of the house of Windy Standard were permitted to clean out the boiling-pan in the fruit-preserving season with worn horn spoons, in order not to scratch the copper or crack the enamel.
And rasp was Hugh John's favourite.
”Huh,” said Toady Lion, turning up a contemptuous nose. ”Thank 'oo for nuffin! I like wasps just as much as 'oo, Hugh John Picton Smiff!”
”Don't answer me back, sir!”--Hugh John was using his father's words and manner.
”Sall if I like,” said Toady Lion, beginning to whimper. ”Sall go and tell Janet Sheepshanks, and she'll give me yots of wasps! Not sc.r.a.pin's neither, but weal-weal wasps--so there!”
”Toady Lion, I shall degrade you to the ranks. You are a little pig and a disgrace to the army.”
”Don't care, I wants wasps--and I d'livered Donald,” reiterated the Disgrace of the Army.
Hugh John once more felt the difficulty of arguing with Toady Lion. He was altogether too young to be logical. So he said, ”Toady Lion, you little a.s.s, stop snivelling--and I'll give you a bone b.u.t.ton and the half of a knife.”
”Let's see them,” said Toady Lion, cautiously uncovering one eye by lifting up the edge of the covering palm. His commanding officer produced the articles of peace, and Toady Lion examined them carefully, still with one eye. They proved satisfactory.
”All yight!” said he, ”I won't cry no more--but I wants three saucers full of the wasps too!”
CHAPTER XXII.
MUTINY IN THE CAMP.
Hugh John was holding his court under the weeping-elm, and was being visited in detail by his army. The Carters had come over, and, after a vigorous engagement and pursuit, he had even forgiven Sammy for his lack of hardihood in not resisting to the death at the great battle of the Black Sheds.
”But it hurts so confoundedly,” argued Sammy; ”if it didn't, I shouldn't mind getting killed a bit!”
”Look at me,” said Hugh John; ”I'm all over peels and I don't complain.”
”Oh! I dare say--it's all very well for you,” retorted Sammy, ”you like to fight, and it was you that began the fuss, but I only fight because you'd jolly-well-hammer me if I didn't!”
”Course I would,” agreed his officer, ”don't you know that's what generals are for?”
”Well,” concluded Sammy Carter, summing the matter up philosophically, ”'tain't my castle anyway.”