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"Ker-ist!" said Chipmunk. "Can yer wait a bit until I've cleaned me buttons?" "Oh, bust your old buttons!" laughed Doggie. "I'm hungry." So the pair of privates marched through the old city to the Downshire Arms, the select, old-world hotel of Durdlebury, where Doggie was known since babyhood; and there, sitting at a window table with Chipmunk, he gave Durdlebury the great sensation of its life.
Chipmunk was swearing wholesomely under his breath. Oliver saw him take up the tail of the shirt, spit on it and begin to rub something. "Ker-ist!" said Chipmunk. "What in the thundering blazes are you doing there?" cried Oliver. Chipmunk turned. "Oh, my God!" said Oliver. Then he sank on a chair and laughed and laughed, and the more he looked at Chipmunk the more he laughed.
Suddenly, as if from one in great pain, I heard the word "Ker-ist." Thinking the parson had been bitten by a snake or something, I looked round, but he appeared quite at ease. I then saw over in the corner the young squatter with blood oozing out of his pants. He had sat upon his long-necked spurs.
"Gorblime! Who would ha' thought it?" Then he spat lustily and sucked at his pipe. "You've nothing to say against it, have you?" "No, Cap'en." "All right. And look here, when we're in the army you must chuck calling me Cap'en." "What shall I have to call yer? Gineral?" Chipmunk asked simply. "Mate, Bill, Joe any old name." "Ker-ist!" said Chipmunk. "Do you know why we're going to enlist?"
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