friend" went there, the alert sentry presented arms and called in
solemn, stentorian accents upon his friend to "advance within six inches
of the muzzle of this rifle and give the countersign!" It was due to a
lucky accident that the officer knew the countersign, and was not
buried next day. Another genial tippler disported himself during
business hours in less serious fashion. He was not so fastidiously exact
about killing his man by inches. On the contrary, when his "friend" had
proclaimed himself a friend indeed, he was superciliously informed: "You
have got to say 'Tiger' before you come in here!" "Tiger" was the
countersign; and it was only the humour of the incident that enabled the
worthy sentry to keep the Marshal's baton in his knapsack.

Under the direction of Major Gorle, the Army Service Corps was extremely
energetic in the general regulation of foodstuffs. Colonel Kekewich
seemed bent on starving us. Now, if there remained no less drastic
alternative to surrender he could have starved us by consent. To the
_principle_ of the ordinance there was no open opposition. But it was
ridiculous to start starving us so soon, and we were far from imagining
that it should ever be necessary to start at all. The _Commissariat_ was
being largely extended, and the Colonel had drafted another
proclamation. He had already taken care that the flour should be made to
stretch for years--the colour of the bread never permitted us to forget
that--and he now commanded that all the tea and coffee in town must be
submitted for analysis. Every ounce of chicory in the city, he
proclaimed, must be handed over to the _Commissariat_ within twenty-four
hours; or, by Jingo!--Martial Law! The ladies clung to their caddies and
protested; but in vain. The gallant Colonel insisted--reluctantly; he
had a heart; but he had also, so to say, a partner (Mr. Gorle)--as
inexorable as the "Mr. Jorkins" whom Dickens has immortalised. This
arbitrary conduct on the part of Kekewich and Gorle did not stop at tea