You could nurse the whole five of 'em on your lap. I can strongly recommend them."

"That might suit me," announced Bretschneider, "and what would they cost?"

"That depends on the size," replied Schweik. "It's all a question of size. A ratter's not like a calf. It's the other way round with them. The smaller they are, the more they cost."

"What I had in mind was some big ones to use as watch dogs," replied Bretschneider, who was afraid he might encroach too far on his secret police funds.

"Right you are," said Schweik. "I can sell you some big 'uns

for fifty crowns each, and some bigger still for twenty-five crowns. Only there's one thing we've forgotten. Do you want puppies or older dogs, and then is it to be dogs or bitches?"

"It's all the same to me," replied Bretschneider, who found himself grappling with unknown problems. "You get them for me and I'll come and fetch them from you at seven o'clock tomorrow evening. Will they be ready by then?"

"Just you come along. I'll have them without fail," answered Schweik drily. "But under the circumstances I shall have to ask you for an advance of thirty crowns."

"That's all right," said Bretschneider, paying the money. "And now let's have a drink on the strength of it. I'll stand treat."

When they had each had four drinks, Bretschneider announced, after telling Schweik not to be afraid of him, that he wasn't on duty that day and so he could talk to him about politics.

Schweik declared that he never talked about politics in a public house, and that politics was a mug's game anyhow.

In opposition to this, Bretschneider was more revolutionary in his views and said that every weak country was predestined to destruction. Then he asked Schweik what he thought about this.

Schweik announced that it had nothing to do with the country, but that once he had to look after a weak St. Bernard puppy which he had fed with army biscuits and it had died.

When they had each had five drinks, Bretschneider asserted that he was an anarchist and asked Schweik which organization he ought to join.

Schweik said that once an anarchist had bought a mastiff from him for a hundred crowns and had failed to pay the last instalment.

Over the sixth drink Bretschneider was talking about revolution and against mobilization, whereupon Schweik leaned over toward him and whispered into his ear:

"There's a customer just come in, so don't let him hear you or it might be awkward for you. And look, the landlady's crying!"

Mrs. Palivec was, in fact, crying on her chair behind the bar.

"What are you crying for, missus?" asked Bretschneider. "In

three months we'll have won the war, there'll be an amnesty, your husband'll come back home and then we'll have a fine old spree here."

"Don't you think we'll win?" he added, turning to Schweik.

"What's the good of chewing the rag about that the whole time?" said Schweik. "The war's got to be won and there you are. But now I must be off home."

Schweik paid his reckoning and returned to Mrs. Muller, his old charwoman, who was extremely scared when she saw that the man who had let himself in with a key was Schweik.

"I didn't think you'd be back for years and years," she said with her usual frankness. "And so, till further notice, as you might say, I took a new lodger—a porter from a night club, and him not having anywhere to go, I felt sorry for him, like, and then the police came and searched the place three times, but they couldn't find anything, so they said you was done for, through being so artful and all."

Schweik immediately discovered that the unknown lodger had made himself extremely comfortable. He was sleeping in Schweik's bed and he had been magnanimous enough to be satisfied with only half the bed, granting the use of the other half to some member of the opposite sex who was asleep with an arm gratefully encircling his neck, while articles of male and female clothing were scattered in a medley around the bed. From this chaos it was evident that the porter from the night club had been in a merry mood when he had returned with his lady.

"Look here, boss," said Schweik, shaking the intruder, "don't you be late for lunch. I should be very upset if people said I'd chucked you out before you'd had a chance of getting any lunch."

The porter from the night club was very sleepy, and it took a long time before he understood that the owner of the bed had returned home and was laying claim to his property.

In the manner of all porters from night clubs, this gentleman announced his intention of bashing anyone who woke him up, and he endeavoured to continue his slumbers.

Schweik meanwhile collected portions of the man's wardrobe, brought them to his bedside and shaking him vigorously, said :

"If you don't get dressed, I'll chuck you out into the street just

as you are. It'd be much better to get away from here with your clothes on."

"I wanted to sleep till eight in the evening," announced the porter, somewhat taken aback and putting on his trousers. "I'm paying the landlady two crowns a day for the bed and she lets me bring girls from the club here. Marena, get up."

By the time he had discovered his collar and was arranging his tie, he had sufficiently pulled himself together to assure Schweik that the Mimosa Club was one of the most respectable of its kind, for the only ladies allowed there were those who were properly registered with the police, and he cordially invited Schweik to pay a visit to the establishment.

On the other hand, his female companion was not at all pleased with Schweik and in reference to him made use of some highly select expressions, the most select of which was :

"You measly, low-down skunk, you !"

After the departure of the intruders, Schweik went to have it out with Mrs.