{"sf1_id":734823,"sf2_id":"J1OQobJm","title":"\"The Thin Line,\" Part D","author":"EOCostello","words":2998,"posted_at":"2014-07-24T10:25:00.000Z","tags":["Boar","Comedy","Deer","Ram","Squirrel","army","cleaning"],"url":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/734823-the-thin-line-part-d","original_url":"https://sofurry.com/s/J1OQobJm","image_url":"https://cdn.sofurryfiles.com/submissions/thumbnails/66/28/662890ff-d3e2-4a42-9aea-7ce963c3b65c","description":"#4 of The Thin Line\n\nIn this episodes, Private Winterbough meets a number of furs he'll get to know better, most notably the officer to whom he has been assigned as a soldier-servant, Sir Jasper Chitterleigh; and two fellow soldier-servants, the raconteur Schweink and the greedy-guts Bagoum. Some of this story might bring forth memories of the Collyer Brothers to certain folks with sharp memories.","content":"\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\n\n\\*\\*\\*\\*\\*\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I heard the bells tolling from one of the nearby monasteries throughout the night, so it was with plenty of time that I was up and about and out of the billet by the time the sun rose. It looked to be a rather sunny and cloudless summer day.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; One of the prowling Red Caps felt my collar, and demanded my papers.\u0026nbsp; He seemed quite disappointed that I was sober, had my documents, and that I was actually out and about at an early hour on authentic business.\u0026nbsp; One did appreciate that this must have been a novelty for him.\u0026nbsp; With an audible snarl, and a flick of his nightstick, he pointed out where the Bachelor Officers' Quarters were located.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; This proved to be on a side-street a short walk away from the main Parade Ground.\u0026nbsp; The street gave rather a nice impression, since it was lined with shade-trees sheltering a number of small bungalow-type buildings with what appeared to be back-gardens.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; At this hour, it appeared to be quiet.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Appearances as to tidiness and quiet were shattered by the door of one of the bungalows banging open with a crash.\u0026nbsp; From it emerged a figure that was simultaneously attempting to eat a slice of buttered bread, put on an officer's cravat, and handle a variety of implements, including a recalcitrant map-case.\u0026nbsp; The figure was not doing well on any of these activities.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was with a sinking feeling that I realized that I was looking at a squirrel, and therefore likely the officer I was going to be responsible for.\u0026nbsp; I walked up to him, and saluted.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; In attempting to return the salute, a half-slice of buttered bread went sailing into a nearby yard.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Blast!\u0026nbsp; Oh, well, wasn't hungry anyway.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Good morning, sir, I am...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Eh?\u0026nbsp; What?\u0026nbsp; Oh, yes, quite, quite.\u0026nbsp; Sorry I didn't leave a note.\u0026nbsp; Let's see.\u0026nbsp; A loaf of bread, one quart of milk, and a pint of yoghurt, please.\u0026nbsp; I'd have left you a note, only my batman's been gone somewhere for days, hang his impudence.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Um, sir...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"By the way, you can put that on the slate, can't you?\u0026nbsp; Little short until the end of the month, y'know...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"But, sir...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Splendid!\u0026nbsp; Splendid!\u0026nbsp; It's very good of you chaps to be so accommodating.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"If I may, sir...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Eh?\u0026nbsp; Oh, yes, well, bung them in the icebox.\u0026nbsp; Hopefully, there's still some ice in there.\u0026nbsp; Sorry, must dash.\u0026nbsp; Leave the chit in my quarters.\u0026nbsp; Here's the key...blast...where **is** it...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There followed a fumbling in the pockets of his tunic, which produced a few pieces of candy, a copper or two, a broken reed, and eventually a small iron key, which was thrust into my paw.\u0026nbsp; With a smile and a hurried apology, the fur who I supposed was Lieutenant Sir Jasper Chitterleigh dashed off toward the parade ground.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Without his hat, I noticed.\u0026nbsp; I suspected that I would not be the only one.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I gathered my kit together, and walked toward the bungalow from which the squirrel had emerged.\u0026nbsp; I was brought up short at the threshold.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; In part, this was amazement.\u0026nbsp; In part, this was because my path was blocked by what appeared to be a pile of laundry.\u0026nbsp; The two were not unconnected.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; My late mother herself had come from an old Army family, and had married into one.\u0026nbsp; You can therefore imagine the standards that were applicable to housekeeping.\u0026nbsp; I learned to make up my bed at roughly the same time I graduated from a crib to a real bed.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Speaking of beds, I was not entirely sure where it was located in the bungalow.\u0026nbsp; The main room was dark because of the closed curtains, and it did not seem like the lamps were oiled.\u0026nbsp; Moving aside the curtains produced a large cloud of dust, largely caused by the curtains sliding off the rings and collapsing.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; What appeared to be the aftermath of a riot at a habersdasher's was revealed, with assorted tunic jackets, tunic pants and body linen scattered in all directions.\u0026nbsp; Some were on tables and chairs, and there appeared to be a jacket caught up in the rafters.\u0026nbsp; One package from a tailor's shop was partially torn open, revealing the likely source of this morning's outfit and what was in all probability the only clean uniform in the house.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Peering into the bedroom revealed more of the same, only a bed was discernable in roughly the centre of the room.\u0026nbsp; The kitchen, judging from the pile of dishes and glassware and utensils, had been used vigorously at one point, but not recently.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; There was a small room off to the side, which I assumed was my room.\u0026nbsp; I rather hoped it wasn't, since it was furnished largely by means of piles of laundry that formed a rough approximation of a bed and sofa.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I was rather at a loss to explain the situation.\u0026nbsp; Either somefur had been bribed, or somefur had given things up as a hopeless job.\u0026nbsp; It was depressing to see that this was going to be my responsibility.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After unsticking a stubborn back door, I found what might possibly have been, at some point in time, a back garden.\u0026nbsp; A well in some semblance of working order was at least a hopeful sign.\u0026nbsp; Less hopeful was the sight of an empty log rack.\u0026nbsp; Even less hopeful was the fact that there was no sight of a laundry-kettle.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"A state of nature, eh?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I turned to find that I was being looked upon kindly by a somewhat jug-eared boar, with a semi-shaven head that gave him the look of a recently released convict.\u0026nbsp; He was placidly smoking an ornate pipe with a metal lid, and even at this early hour, was toting a large ceramic stein, from which he was refreshing himself.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"By mighty Fuma's own quivering whiskers...!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Nice assistance if you can get it, lad.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, look, speaking of help...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Glad to oblige, lad, only with me knees, I'm sort of limited.\u0026nbsp; Name's Schweink.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Oh.\u0026nbsp; Hullo, Schweink.\u0026nbsp; I'm Lieutenant Chitterleigh's new batman, Winterbough.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Another one?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, I heard his previous one was sacked for being drunk.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, it wasn't for being sober.\u0026nbsp; They'd have been waiting until Fuma's Day for that.\u0026nbsp; Never saw such a fur for a thirst.\"\u0026nbsp; This, even when he took a swig from his stein.\u0026nbsp; \"Reminded me of my old sergeant from the Thirty-Ninth, back in the day...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Yes, well...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Now there was a chap with a heroic thirst.\u0026nbsp; We went on march one time, and passed a vineyard, and you know how it is, the lads were ready for a little refreshment, and the owner of the establishment had every right to be worried...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"But, see here...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"So he gave us a proposition that we could have all we wanted in one pull for a silver piece.\u0026nbsp; It was his awful luck that the sergeant took first go.\u0026nbsp; Rank, y'know...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"But...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Circular breathing, they calls it.\u0026nbsp; Passed out drunk as a lord, but by Fuma's shining stripes, he got value for that silver piece.\u0026nbsp; Now, the lieutenant, when he heard about this, was...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I interrupted the flow of the narrative with an urgent request for firewood and his officer's laundry-kettles.\u0026nbsp; Schweink cheerfully pointed out the necessary with his pipe, and excused himself, on the grounds that the early morning dew played hob with his knee joints.\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He did offer assistance, in the form of an anecdote relating to how he and some of his old comrades from the Thirty-Ninth burned down a wheat-field cooking their breakfast on another march.\u0026nbsp; I'm not sure what the point of it all was, as I was trying hard not to listen.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I had changed into my fatigues, and while the water was coming to a boil in the washing-kettle, I began to remove piles of laundry from the bungalow and sort them in the garden.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Some of the tunics appeared lumpy, and I had to borrow a few bowls from Schweink while I emptied out the contents of some pockets.\u0026nbsp; I produced a startling array of coins, broken reeds, crumbled pieces of papyrus, collar-buttons, and in at least two or three cases, articles of clothing that were decidedly not standard-issue for Imperial Army officers.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"There was a captain in my old regiment who was fond of keeping those as souvenirs.\u0026nbsp; Called 'em battle standards, he did, and hung 'em up over his bed.\u0026nbsp; Had quite a collection of 'em, too.\u0026nbsp; Looked exactly like the Hall of Flags in the Palace, only with more colour.\u0026nbsp; Came to a bad end, though.\u0026nbsp; The colonel of the regiment came around for an inspection one time and recognized a few pair.\u0026nbsp; There was the father and mother of a row when that happened...\"\u0026nbsp; Schweink chuckled merrily at the memory, while I found a small bag in which to hide the silken articles.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; We were joined by another fur coming from the other side of the bungalow, a large, shambling ram, who waddled up.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Eeee, by gum.\u0026nbsp; Tha is havin' breakfast?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; He seemed disappointed that the steaming kettle contained only boiling water and the smell of lye and ashes.\u0026nbsp; He dipped a finger into the water and licked it to test whether I had added anything like carrots or oats.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Morning, Bagoum.\u0026nbsp; This is Winterbough, Chitter's new man.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I was the recipient of a lopsided grin and a wave from the ram.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Eee, doin' laundry, then?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; As I was surrounded by a pile of clothes that I was sorting, this at least evidenced some powers of observation on his part, obvious as it may have been.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Dost tha want any more lye un ashes, then?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; This was, so far, the first evidence of any helpfulness that might be coming my way, and I indicated that I could use some more cleaning supplies.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Market oop th' street.\u0026nbsp; Ah cood get tha soom.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I fished a few silver pieces, ones culled from tunic pockets, from a bowl, and handed them to Bagoum, who immediately grinned, and ambled off as fast as his significant bulk could carry him.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Schweink, who's your officer?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; The boar looked sadly at his empty stein, and set it aside to concentrate on his pipe.\u0026nbsp; \"Lieutenant Wicker.\u0026nbsp; He's an A.D.C., just like your Lieutenant, and Bagoum's Lieutenant Banks.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Hmm.\u0026nbsp; Lieutenant Chitterleigh was already up this morning.\u0026nbsp; Met him on my way in.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Aye, it's a big conference today, lad, and all the A.D.C.'s are going to be there.\u0026nbsp; All-day affair.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Must be important.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Schweink shrugged, and puffed on his pipe.\u0026nbsp; \"Business will be over before lunch, and after lunch...\"\u0026nbsp; He shrugged his shoulders again, chuckled, and puffed on his pipe.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I got the first cleaning-kettle going, and began to make further inroads on the accumulation in the bungalow.\u0026nbsp; Or, at least, I thought I was making inroads until I opened an armoire and was almost buried in an outflow that had been hidden in there.\u0026nbsp; It took me the better part of a half-hour to finally organize the new lot, charge the rinsing-kettle, and get a second cleaning-kettleload going.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Have you seen Bagoum, Schweink?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Likely having breakfast, Winterbough.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Well, I think he should at least have that after he goes to the market.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Oh, he's at the market, all right.\"\u0026nbsp; Schweink lit a fresh pipe, and chuckled.\u0026nbsp; I was about to beg further enlightenment, when it dawned in the form of Bagoum returning, with a shiny, greasy chin and a nearly empty sheet of papyrus that had once held a large portion of chips.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was obvious where the silver pieces had gone, and I evidenced my displeasure, largely by applying a hoof vigorously to Bagoum's shin.\u0026nbsp; With a mournful howl, the embezzler dropped the newspaper, and began hopping up and down on one leg.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; After this stopped, he regarded me mournfully.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Eee, I was 'ungry-like.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"You big, lumbering, over-fed...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Now, now, Winterbough.\u0026nbsp; Bagoum's many things, but over-fed isn't one of them.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Tha right, Schweink.\u0026nbsp; Folks don't feed a fur like should here.\u0026nbsp; Could na feed a lamb on what tha get for vittles.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Bagoum began to hunt along the ground for every last dropped chip, and crammed each and every one into a large, gaping mouth, chewing audibly and with pleasure.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I glared at Schweink.\u0026nbsp; \"And you were going to warn me about this, when?\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Lad, there's no beating learning from experience in the Army, as my old sergeant in the Thirty-Ninth used to say.\u0026nbsp; We had one greedy-guts that would have given even old Bagoum here a run for his money.\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Our regimental cook got so cheesed with this fellow pilfering from the common kettle that he added a good old slug of castor oil to the stew, just to teach him a lesson.\u0026nbsp; Didn't work, of course.\u0026nbsp; The entire regiment polished it off, and yelled for more.\u0026nbsp; First time any of us could remember anything in the mess having any flavor.\u0026nbsp; Started adding it to everything, even the oatmeal.\u0026nbsp; We had bottles of the stuff on the tables. The regimental herbalist was wondering why the hell we were using ten times the castor oil of any other outfit...\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I stopped listening at that point, and told Bagoum to make himself useful, and bring me his officer's laundry kettles and his own cleaning supplies, emphasizing the point with a kick to his backside.\u0026nbsp; In a few minutes, a contrite ram came back, toting the kettles and supplies with one paw, while eating a half-slice of buttered bread of awful familiarity with the other.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; By noon-time, I had managed to at least get all of the laundry out of the bungalow and sorted.\u0026nbsp; I did see Bagoum eyeing the bowl of coins with a greedy look, and I quickly pocketed the lot.\u0026nbsp; I did see him stick a large, meaty paw in the bowl containing a few pastilles of dubious vintage, and he was welcome to them.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Schweink did allow me to borrow his man's iron and creasing-board, though he excused himself from lifting same, as heavy weights caused his \"nadgers to act up.\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; Chitterleigh's cleaning-kettles did turn up, eventually.\u0026nbsp; They were in the small-room, where they apparently formed part of a distilling apparatus.\u0026nbsp; Schweink took it upon himself to remove the other parts, with a broad wink and a tap of the side of his snout.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With three sets of kettles going, and the well in the back providing fresh water, I was able to get the laundry washed, folded and ironed close to sundown, as well as the Lieutenant's mattress aired.\u0026nbsp; I happily traded the two jugs of clear liquid that had been with the distilling apparatus to Schweink in exchange for the rest of his cleaning supplies.\u0026nbsp; I did not think it was safe to have that liquid in any area near an open flame.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I was still confronted, after I locked the back door for the night, with the awful prospect of the kitchen and the floors.\u0026nbsp; I'm not sure I even wanted to think about the W.C., as necessary as that was to the grand scheme of things.\u0026nbsp; Warning or no warning from that wolf in the FAFI, desperate times called for desperate measures.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; By the way, those of you who think Gramerye was constructed to cast spells of might?\u0026nbsp; Don't be fooled.\u0026nbsp; I swear that much of the low-level stuff was probably devised by bored students looking to cut corners in keeping everything neat and tidy.\u0026nbsp; I certainly think that nothing ordinary could have either cleaned some of the crockery, attacked the dust on the floor, or attended to some parts of the W.C.\u0026nbsp; At a bare minimum, it was necessary to fix some of the oil lamps.\u0026nbsp; By trading wicks, oil reservoirs and some judicious, Gramerye-assisted threading, I got some light to work in the bungalow.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; It was thus, well after midnight, that I could sit down with my bread-bag and a small pot of jam, and have a meal in a kitchen that was at least suitable for storing food, as opposed to what it had been storing before.\u0026nbsp; I was a little nonplussed to see that the icebox had been used to store one last deposit of laundry.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I had put away my kit when I heard some fumbling at the door.\u0026nbsp; I recalled that Lieutenant Chitterleigh had given me his key when we met in the morning, and it was quite possible that he had forgotten that he had done so.\u0026nbsp; Opening the door revealed a somewhat bleary-eyed, though cheerful, squirrel.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; \"Open sesame!\"\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; With that literary allusion, he staggered into the bungalow.\u0026nbsp; He managed to hit the walls only twice before swinging into the bedroom, and collapsing face-down on his freshly-made bed.\u0026nbsp; Within a few seconds, the sounds of snoring could be heard.\n\n\u0026nbsp;\n\n\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp;\u0026nbsp; I think I should have been disconcerted by the fact that he was giggling as I undressed him, but I chose to put it out of my mind as I extinguished the lamps.\n\n  \n  \n\n","series":{"name":"The Thin Line","previous":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/734712-the-thin-line-part-c.json","next":"https://fse.anthro.fr/stories/735017-the-thin-line-part-e.json"}}