17                    “THE O-PIP”
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It Can't be Done Cardy.

One dark night when the lights were burning dimly the cook made his way valiantly to the coal oil can, which stands near the speaking tube, alongside the megaphone. Of course the cook forgot to take a can to carry the oil back in, evidently thinking his tin lid would do, but unfortunately he lost that on the way up the stairs.

“Say, bo’, d’yer know where there’s a tin round here a feller kin put some coal oil in?” the cook asked the guard.

 “Sure, Mike, here’s a jug right here,” replied the guard, as he handed the megaphone to the hash-man.

 “Bedads, this damn thing seems to hold a ’ell of a lot, don’t it?” suggested the cook, after he had emptied about half the tin. “I should say it does: better have a look and see how she’s going. Here’s a light. The guard handed over his flash and proceeded on his beat.

“Well, er—er—er—blast the blinking thing anyhow. It’s that son-of-a-gun of a megaphone, and there’s half a can of oil on the ground,” said the cook in an undertone.  “Hey! Sentry, come here!”

“Couldn’t fill her, what?” queried the sentry.

 “No. It can’t be done, bo,” the victim was heard to say, as he headed below with the remains of the can.
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BOMB-THROWING CONTEST.

Until Christmas (we won’t say which one) there will be daily' and nightly exhibitions of bomb-throwing in the trenches. Thousands have been stunned by the dexterity of these young men in hurling the bombs. Admission free. No children under 18 admitted.

HUNTING.

To-morrow afternoon at 2 o’clock the spare men of the battery will proceed on a hunting expedition. They will start on the main street and visit all cellars and attics (if any) and salvage any bully beef, Machonochies biscuits, beds, clothing, boots, flea powder, talcum powder, pyjamas, etc.

(This is private to the folks at home: salvage is a polite word we use in the army to replace “steal.’’)