tons on the breast of the second man to the right. 'Right dress!'"

"There's no man on my right for me to look toward. What 'm I to do?"
complained Gid Mackall.

"There, you see what come o' putting him in front," exulted Harry
Joslyn. "Now, if I'd bin--"

"Say, I can't see up to Jim Humphreys' big breast without twistin' my
neck nearly off," murmured little Pete Skidmore. "Can't you make him
scrooch a little? Jest see him swell up."

"What's the use o' linin' on a feller that can't stand still a second?"
complained the others.

"Great Scott, what a line," groaned Si, walking along, shoving the boys
back, and twisting them around, to get them straight. "Crooked as a
pumpkin vine in a cornfield. Here, I told you not to turn your heads,
but only your eyes. If you snipes wouldn't gab so much, but listen to
what I say, you'd git along better. Silence in ranks. Now, try it over
again. Faces straight to the front. Eyes cast to the right, until they
catch the buttons on the breast of the second man. Right dress!"

"Great grief," sighed he, looking at the result. "You wriggle about like
so many eels. Might as well try to line up so many kittens. Won't you
straighten Up and keep straight?" Then came a renewal of the noisy
discussion, with mutual blaming of one another.

Si picked up a stick and drew a line in the ground. "Now bring your toes
to that line, and keep 'em there."

"Shall we take that scratch along with us as we march, or will you draw
another one for us as we need it?" Monty Scruggs asked, at which the
other boys laughed, which did not improve Si's temper. It was long, hard
work before he got the restless, talkative young fellows so that they
would form a fairly straight line, and maintain it for a minute or two.

He looked at them, wiped his perspiring brow, and remarked internally:

"Well, I thought them was bright boys, that it'd be no trouble to drill.
I'd ruther break in the stoonidest lot o' hayseeds that ever breathed,
rather than boys that think they know more'n I do. Now I'm goin' to have
the time o' my life learnin' 'em the right face."

He began the explanation of that complicated manuver:

"Now, I want every one o' you to stop talkin', gether up them
scatter-fire brains o' your'n, and pay strict 'tention to every word I
say--"

"Harry Joslyn," broke in Gid, "if you tramp on my heels just one more
time, I'll knock your head off. I've told you often enough."

"Well, you just keep off en my