People were always calling _him_ up and asking _him_
questions, which of course wasn't playing the game at all. Sometimes
he never got to bed before 10 P.M., answering questions; often he was
up again at 9 A.M., answering more questions--and such questions!
A sample. On one occasion he rang up his old battalion. One Jimmy
was then Acting Assistant Vice-Adjutant. "Hello, wazzermatter?" said
Jimmy. "Staff Captain speaking," said Patrick sternly. "Please furnish
a return of all cooks, smoke-helmets, bombs, mules, Yukon-packs, tin
bowlers, grease-traps and Plymouth Brothers you have in the field!"
"Easy--beg pardon, yes, Sir," said Jimmy and hung up.
Presently the phone buzzed and there was Jimmy again.
"Excuse me, Sir, but you wanted a return of various commodities we
have in the field. What field?"
"Oh, the field of Mars, fat-head!" Patrick snapped and rang off. A
quarter of an hour later he was called to the phone once more and
the familiar bleat of Jimmy tickled his ear.
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