one afternoon.

Willie snorted. 'What the ---- wud they send us yins to the
Dardanelles afore we ken hoo to fire a rifle?'

'I heard it for a fac',' Macgregor returned imperturbably. 'They
want us yins for begnet wark, no for snipin'.'

'Begnet wark! I'll bet ye fifty fags I get a dizzen Turks on ma
begnet afore ye get twa on yours!'

Macgregor let the boastful irrelevance pass. 'I wonder,' he said,
thoughtfully, 'if we'll get extra leave afore we gang.'

'Plenty o' leave! Keep yer mind easy, Macgreegor. It's a million
in gold to a rotten banana we never get a bash at onybody. It's
fair putrid to think o' a' the terrible hard wark we're daein' here
to nae purpose. I wisht I was deid! Can ye len' 'us a bob?'

'I ha'ena got it, Wullie; honest.' Willie sadly shook his head.
'That moll o' yours,' said he, 'is awfu' expensive. Ye've nae
notion o' managin' weemen. Listen, an' I'll tell ye something. Ye
mind last Monday? Weel, I had a late pass that nicht, an' I thocht
I wud miss seein' ma aunt's ugly for wance--though it meant missin'
a guid meal forbye. So when I got to Glesca I picked up thon fat
girl we used to fling rubbish at when we was young. An', by Jings,
she was pleased an' prood! She stood me ma tea, includin' twa hot
pies, an' she gi'ed me a packet o' fags--guid quality, mind
ye!--an' she peyed for first-class sates in a pictur' hoose!
That's hoo to dae it, ma lad!' he concluded complacently.