You can't tell why. And
a Sergeant, being, as you may say, a human being, has as much
right to his private feelings regarding a Colonel as any officer."
"Undoubtedly," said I.
"Well, sir, I never thought Colonel Boyce was true metal. But I
take it all back--every bit of it."
"For God's sake," I cried, stretching out a foolish but
instinctive hand to the wheel, "for God's sake, control your
emotions, or you'll be landing us in the ditch."
"That's all right, sir," he replied, steering a straight course.
"She's a bit skittish at times. I was saying as how I did the
Colonel an injustice. I'm very sorry. No man who wasn't steel all
through ever got the V.C. They don't chuck it around on
blighters."
"That's all very interesting and commendable," said I, "but what
has it to do with Gedge?"
"He has been slandering the Colonel something dreadful the last
few months, sneering at him, saying nothing definite, but
insinuatingly taking away his character."
"In what way?" I asked.
"Well, he tells one man that the Colonel's a drunkard, another
that it's women, another that he gambles and doesn't pay, another
that he pays the newspapers to put in all these things about him,
while all the time in France he's in a blue funk hiding in his
dugout.
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