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Updated: June 8, 2025
Our friend Bob Jakin had, with Mumps's tacit consent, taken not only a wife about eight months ago, but also one of those queer old houses, pierced with surprising passages, by the water-side, where, as he observed, his wife and mother could keep themselves out of mischief by letting out two "pleasure-boats," in which he had invested some of his savings, and by taking in a lodger for the parlor and spare bedroom.
Despite the sensational picture which emblazons the title-page, where a full-length Baphomet is directing a décolletée Templar-Mistress through the pillars Jakin and Bohaz, there is not a single page in the whole vast compilation which shows any connection between Satanism and Masonry until towards the close, when an adroit tax is levied on the still vaster storehouse of Doctor Bataille.
"You're a bloomin' little barstard," said Jakin, strong in the knowledge that his own ancestry was unknown. Now there is one word in the extended vocabulary of barrack-room abuse that cannot pass without comment. You may call a man a thief and risk nothing.
Jakin stood upright on the branch and gazed across the plain. "Lew," said he, "there's the Colonel coming. 'Colonel's a good old beggar. Let's go an' talk to 'im." Lew nearly fell out of the tree at the audacity of the suggestion. Like Jakin he feared not God, neither regarded he Man, but there are limits even to the audacity of a drummer-boy, and to speak to a Colonel was
The steel and the feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert sprang softly to the door. He pulled off his shoes. "Wait here," he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the boots and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man was there and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he was fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked the drawbridge.
The steel and the feet went on up the turret stairs. Then Robert sprang softly to the door. He pulled off his shoes. 'Wait here, he whispered, and stole quickly and softly after the boots and the spur-clank. He peeped into the upper room. The man was there and it was Jakin, all dripping with moat-water, and he was fiddling about with the machinery which Robert felt sure worked the drawbridge.
That is to say, Lew started a flirtation with the Colour-Sergeant's daughter, aged thirteen "not," as he explained to Jakin, "with any intention o' matrimony, but by way o' keep in' my 'and in."
Their hearts beat tumultuously. "Beg y' pardon, Sir," began Jakin. "The Reg'ment's ordered on active service, Sir?" "So I believe," said the Colonel courteously. "Is the Band goin', Sir?" said both together. Then, without pause, "We're goin', Sir, ain't we?" "You!" said the Colonel, stepping back the more fully to take in the two small figures. "You! You'd die in the first march."
They never heard his vitriolic comments on their manners and morals, as he walked back to barracks with the Band and matured fresh causes of offence against Jakin. The other drummer-boys hated both lads on account of their illogical conduct.
The drink was working on his brain as it was on Jakin's. "'Old on! I know something better than fightin'," said Jakin, stung by the splendour of a sudden thought due chiefly to rum. "Tip our bloomin' cowards yonder the word to come back. The Paythan beggars are well away. Come on, Lew! We won't get hurt. Take the fife an' give me the drum. The Old Step for all your bloomin' guts are worth!
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