The youngster turns red: “You can’t kid me.”
Katczinsky merely says: “Fetch your mess-tin.”
We follow curiously. He takes us to a tub beside his straw sack. It is nearly half full of a stew of beef and beans. Katczinsky plants himself in front of it like a general and says:
“Sharp eyes and light fingers! That’s what the Prussians say.”
We are surprised. “Great guts, Kat, how did you come by that?” I ask him.
“Ginger was glad I took it. I gave him three pieces of parachute silk for it. Cold beans taste fine, too.”
Grudgingly he gives the youngster a portion and says:
“Next time you come with your mess-tin have a cigar or a chew of tobacco in your other hand. Get me?” Then he turns to us. “You get off scot free, of course.”
★★
Katczinsky never goes short; he has a sixth sense. There are such people everywhere but one does not appreciate it at first. Every company has one or two. Katczinsky is the smartest I know. By trade he is a cobbler, I believe, but that hasn’t anything to do with it; he understands all trades. It’s a good thing to
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