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But he could not laugh because his cheeks and lips were all shivery: and then the prefect had to laugh by himself. The prefect cried: Quick march! Hayfoot! Strawfoot! They went together down the staircase and along the corridor and past the bath.
These commands came in quick succession from the ranks amidst roars of laughter. Si obeyed the orders and started off. "Left left left!" "Hayfoot strawfoot!" Forgetting his blisters. Si took the double-quick while the mob swung their caps and howled with delight. Si didn't "ketch up" with the 200 Ind. until after it had gone into camp. Shorty had a quart of hot coffee waiting for him.
Hayfoot strawfoot!" keeping time with Si's somewhat irregular steps. "Hello, there, you! Change step and you'll march easier!" "Look at that 'ere poor feller; the only man left alive of his regiment! Great Cesar, how they must have suffered! Say, what rijiment did you b'long to?" "Paymaster's comin', boys, here's a chap with a pay-roll round his neck!"
"What rigiment is this?" asked Si, timidly. "Same old rijiment!" was the answer from half a dozen at once. A single glance told the swarthy veterans that the fresh-looking youth who asked this conundrum belonged to one of the new regiments, and they immediately opened their batteries upon him: "Left left-=left!" "Hayfoot strawfoot!
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