The Sergeant and the Corporal ventured on a respectful snigger.

“Bring me that lamp,” said Captain Blake, and Trooper Bear raised it to his extended hand.  Lifting it so that its light shone straight in Dam’s face the doctor scanned the latter and examined his eyes.  This was not the face of a drunkard nor was the man in any way under the influence of liquor now.  Absurd!  Had he fever?  Was he of deranged intellect?  But, alas, the light that shone upon Dam’s face also shone upon Captain Blake’s collar and upon the badge of his Corps which adorned it—­and that badge is a serpent entwining a rod.

It was the last straw!  Dam had passed through a most disturbing night; he had kept guard in the lonely Snake-haunted darkness, guard over a mortuary in which lay a corpse; he had had to keep knocking at the corpse’s door, his mind had run on funerals, he had thought he heard the dead man groan, he believed he had seen the dead man moving, he had wrestled with thick intelligences who held him drunk or mad while precious moments passed, and he had had the Snake before his mental vision throughout this terrible time—­and here was another of its emissaries wearing its badge, an emissary of high rank, an Officer-Emissary!...  Well, he was in the open air, thank God, and could put up a fight as before.

Like a panther he sprang upon the unfortunate officer and bore him to the ground, with his powerful hands enclosing the astounded gentleman’s neck, and upon the couple sprang the Sergeant, the Corporal, and the Hospital Guard, all save the sentry, who (disciplined, well-drilled man!) brought his carbine to the “order” and stood stiffly at “attention” in a position favourable for a good view of the proceedings though strictly on his beat.

Trooper Bear, ejaculating “Why do the heathen rage furiously together,” took a running jump and landed in sitting posture on the heap, rolled off, and proceeded to seize every opportunity of violently smiting his superior officers, in his apparent zeal to help to secure the dangerous criminal-lunatic.  Thoughts of having just one punch at a real Officer (if only a non-combatant still a genuine Commissioned Officer) flashed across his depraved mind.

It was a Homeric struggle.  Captain Blake was himself an old Guy’s Rugger three-quarter and no mean boxer, and the Sergeant, Corporal, and Guard, were all powerful men, while Dam was a Samson further endowed with the strength of undeniable madness.  When at length he was dragged from Captain Blake’s recumbent form, his hands torn from that officer’s throat, and the group stood for a second panting, Dam suddenly felled Corporal Prag with such a blow as had been the undoing of the Gorilla, sent Sergeant Wotting head over heels and, ere the Guard could again close with him, drove his fist into the face of the supposed myrmidon of the Snake and sprang upon his body once more....