The old lady lost her step at that, because I suppose she was surprised by a Yank speakin’ good French, most of ’em relyin’, like Matthews here, on the sign language, although I’ll say that Matthews gets plenty far enough with that.  Why, they’re four girls and a widow at home that if they knew how far Matthews was gettin’ with the sign language they’d be gray-headed to-day....  Aw, well, Matthews, quit spoilin’ this drawin’.  Do you wanta get me and Admiral Sims into trouble with the department?”

“Go ahead with your funeral, Steve,” said Lieutenant Erskine—­“unless your power of invention has failed you.”

Dempsey looked up with a hurt and innocent expression on his face.

“Oh, lootenant,” he exclaimed, “what I’m tellin’ is gospel.  It’s as true—­it’s as true as the communikays.”

“All right,” said Erskine, “issue another, then.”

“Well,” Steve continued, “where was I?  Oh yes, we was on the bridge and I’d just told the old lady that the dead soldier was in heaven by now.”

“Soldier?” repeated Erskine.  “What made you believe he was a soldier?”

“Why, ain’t every frawg a soldier now, sir.”

“How did you know, even, that it was a male frog?”

“I’m comin’ to that, sir,” replied Steve.  “That comes next.  You see, once the old lady knew I could parlez-vous with the best of ’em, she continued the conversation and sez, ‘Mon pover fees.’  Get that? ‘Mon pover fees.’  Well, that means, translated, ‘My poor son.’”

At this revelation of startling linguistic ability Steve paused to receive felicitations.  When they were forthcoming he proceeded.

“So, of course, I know then that the corpse is a dead soldier, and I decides to see him through until he’s made a safe landing somewhere.  Well, just as we was acrost the bridge, the two ex-horses doin’ fine on the down grade, I seen a marine standin’ on the corner tellin’ a buncha girls all about Chateau-Teery.  Well, I thought that maybe it ’ud be a good thing if he joined the funeral, because, anyway, the girls could hear all about Chateau-Teery the next marine they saw.  So I yell out at him:  ’Hey, you!  Come and join the navy and see the world!’

“Well, he looks around, and, although I guess he didn’t much wanta leave them girls, he decides that he’ll come and see what the big game is.  So he salutes the corpse and steps in beside me and whispers, ‘Say, chief, what’s the idea?’

“’Whadd ‘ya think, you poor cheese?’ I sez.  ’D’ya think it’s a weddin’?  Get in step.  We’re goin’ to bury a French poiloo.’

“‘Is that so?’ he sez.”

“‘Yes, that’s so,’ I sez.  ’Get over acrost on the other side of the widowed mother and say somethin’ cheerful to her in French—­if you know any.’”

“‘If I know any!’ sez he.  ‘Wasn’t I at Chateau-Teery?’”

“‘Well,’ I sez, ‘don’t tell her about that.  Tell her somethin’ she ain’t heard already.’”