The tough private sauntered into the dimlylit saloon.
"Is there anybody here called Donovan?" he snarled. Nobody answered. Again he sneered: "Is there anybody here called Donovan?"
There was a moment of silence and then a little fellow in a sergeant's uniform strode forward.
"I'm Sergeant Donovan," he said defiantly.
The tough guy picked him up and threw him across the bar. Then he punched him in the jaw, kicked him, clubbed him, slapped him around a bit and walked out. About fifteen minutes later the little fellow came to.
"Boy," he exclaimed proudly, "sergeants will be always smarter than privates. Didn't I fool him? I ain't Donovan!"