"
Further long delay followed, during which Mr. Dawber and his assistant
rummaged the heterogeneous contents of his overcrowded store, and at
last he produced five bags, saying--
"You will have to do with this."
"But it is green coffee," said the quartermaster, protesting. "How are
we to roast it?"
"That's not my business. The coffee is always issued in the green
berry. You will find that it preserves its aroma better when roasted
just before use."
"We should have to burn our tent-poles or musket-stocks to cook it,"
said the quartermaster. "That stuff's no use to me," and he went away
grumbling, leaving the bags behind him.
McKay followed him out of the store.
"You won't take the coffee, then?"
"Certainly not. I wish I had the people here that sent out such
stuff."
"May I have it?"
"If you like. It's all one to me."
"Give me the requisition, then."
Armed with this important document, he returned, and accosted Mr.
Dawber.
"He has changed his mind about the coffee. You can give it to me; I
will see that he gets it. Here is the requisition."
The commissariat officer was only too pleased to get rid of the bags
according to form.
McKay next attacked him about the _greggos_. Despairing, after all he
had heard, of getting them by fair means, he resolved to try a
stratagem.
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