_I_ know how it feels. Your first
drill--eh?"

"Yes, sir." He drew an unhappy breath. "'Tention. Dress!" The echo of
his own voice restored his confidence.

The wheel was faced about, flung back, broken into fours, and restored
to line without a falter. The official hour of punishment was long
passed, but no one thought of that. They were backing up Stalky--Stalky
in deadly fear lest his voice should crack.

"He does you credit, Sergeant," was the visitor's comment. "A good
drill--and good material to drill. Now, it's an extraordinary thing:
I've been lunching with your head-master and he never told me you had a
cadet-corps in the College."

"We 'aven't, sir. This is only a little drill," said the Sergeant.

"But aren't they keen on it?" said McTurk, speaking for the first time,
with a twinkle in his deep-set eyes.

"Why aren't you in it, though, Willy?"

"Oh, I'm not punctual enough," said McTurk. "The Sergeant only takes the
pick of us."

"Dismiss! Break off!" cried Foxy, fearing an explosion in the ranks.
"I--I ought to have told you, sir, that--"

"But you should have a cadet-corps." The General pursued his own line of
thought. "You _shall_ have a cadet-corps, too, if my recommendation
in Council is any use. I don't know when I've been so pleased. Boys
animated by a spirit like yours should set an example to the whole
school."

"They do," said McTurk.

"Bless my soul! Can it be so late? I've kept my fly waiting half an
hoar. Well, I must run away. Nothing like seeing things for one's self.
Which end of the buildings does one get out at? Will you show me, Willy?
Who was that boy who took the drill?"

"Corkran, I think his name is."

"You ought to know him. That's the kind of boy you should cultivate.
Evidently an unusual sort. A wonderful sight. Five and twenty boys, who,
I dare say, would much sooner be playing cricket"--(it was the depth
of winter; but grown people, especially those who have lived long in
foreign parts, make these little errors, and McTurk did not correct
him)--"drilling for the sheer love of it. A shame to waste so much good
stuff; but I think I can carry my point."

"An' who's your friend with the white whiskers?" demanded Stalky, on
McTurk's return to the study.

"General Collinson. He comes over to shoot with my father sometimes.
Rather a decent old bargee, too. He said I ought to cultivate your
acquaintance, Stalky."

"Did he tip you?" McTurk exhibited a blessed whole sov