Mr.Briggs fled lightly, but swiftly four tents down the line and disappeared into his own quarters.
From across the way, came a roar of wrath.
Anstey was up, bellowing like a bull.

Yet, roused so ruthlessly from a sound sleep, it took him a few seconds to realize that his wetting must be due to human agency.
Then Anstey flew to the tent door, looking out, but the chuckling plebe was already in his own tent, out of sight.
"After what I've just said," announced Dick grimly, "I think I know of a plebe who requires some correction." "Listen to our preacher!" jeered Furlong..