ereign.

"Ah," said Stalky, annexing it, for he was treasurer. "We'll have a
hefty brew. You'd pretty average cool cheek, Turkey, to jaw about our
keenness an' punctuality."

"Didn't the old boy know we were defaulters?" said Beetle.

"Not him. He came down to lunch with the Head. I found him pokin' about
the place on his own hook afterwards, an' I thought I'd show him the
giddy drill. When I found he was so pleased, I wasn't goin' to damp his
giddy ardor. He mightn't ha' given me the quid if I had."

"Wasn't old Foxy pleased? Did you see him get pink behind the ears?"
said Beetle. "It was an awful score for him. Didn't we back him
up beautifully? Let's go down to Keyte's and get some cocoa and
sassingers."

They overtook Foxy, speeding down to retail the adventure to Keyte, who
in his time had been Troop Sergeant-Major in a cavalry regiment, and
now, war-worn veteran, was local postmaster and confectioner.

"You owe us something," said Stalky, with meaning.

"I'm 'ighly grateful, Muster Corkran. I've 'ad to run against you pretty
hard in the way o' business, now and then, but I will say that outside
o' business--bounds an' smokin', an' such like--I don't wish to have a
more trustworthy young gentleman to 'elp me out of a hole. The way
you 'andled the drill was beautiful, though I say it. Now, if you come
regular henceforward--"

"But he'll have to be late three times a week," said Beetle. "You can't
expect a chap to do that--just to please you, Foxy."

"Ah, that's true. Still, if you could manage it--and you, Muster
Beetle--it would give you a big start when the cadet-corps is formed. I
expect the General will recommend it."

They raided Keyte's very much at their own sweet will, for the old man,
who knew them well, was deep in talk with Foxy. "I make what we've
taken seven and six," Stalky called at last over the counter; "but you'd
better count for yourself."

"No--no. I'd take your word any day, Muster Corkran.--In the Pompadours,
was he, Sergeant? We lay with them once at Umballa, I think it was."

"I don't know whether this ham-and-tongue tin is eighteen pence or one
an' four."

"Say one an' fourpence, Muster Corkran... Of course, Sergeant, if it was
any use to give my time, I'd be pleased to do it, but I'm too old. I'd
like to see a drill again."

"Oh, come on, Stalky," cried McTurk. "He isn't listenin' to you. Chuck
over the money."

"I want the quid changed, you ass. Keyte! Private Keyte! Cor