Hereafter
if any one asks if I did any actual fighting in this war I am going to
say, "Yes, I fought like hell many hard and long battles in camp for
my ration," which will be true.
"Say, buddy," said my opponent, after we had landed quite violently on
the exterior of the Mess Hall, "you didn't git no food at all, did
yer?"
"No," I replied bitterly; "at all is right."
He looked at me for a moment in a strange, studying manner, then began
laughing softly to himself.
"I don't know what made me do it," he said more to himself than to me.
"I wasn't hungry no more. I didn't _really_ want it. I wonder what
makes a guy brutal? Guess he sort of has a feelin' to experiment with
himself and other folks."
"I wish you'd tried that experiment on some one else," I replied,
thinking tenderly of my shin.
"Sometimes I feel so doggon strong and mean," he continued, "I just
can't keep from doing things I don't naturally feel like doing. I
guess I'm sort of an animal."
"Say," I asked him in surprise, "if you keep talking about yourself
that way I won't be able to call you all the names I am carefully
preparing at this moment."
He peered earnestly down on me for a space.
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