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poral Keyte! Terroop-Sergeant-Major Keyte, will you give me change for a quid?" "Yes--yes, of course. Seven an' six." He stared abstractedly, pushed the silver over, and melted away into the darkness of the back room. "Now those two'll jaw about the Mutiny till tea-time," said Beetle. "Old Keyte was at Sobraon," said Stalky. "Hear him talk about that sometimes! Beats Foxy hollow." The Head's face, inscrutable as ever, was bent over a pile of letters. "What do you think?" he said at last to the Reverend John Gillett. "It's a good idea. There's no denying that--an estimable idea." "We concede that much. Well?" "I have my doubts about it--that's all. The more I know of boys the less do I profess myself capable of following their moods; but I own I shall be very much surprised if the scheme takes. It--it isn't the temper of the school. We prepare for the Army." "My business--in _this_ matter--is to carry out the wishes of the Council. They demand a volunteer cadet-corps. A volunteer cadet-corps will be furnished. I have suggested, however, that we need not embark upon the expense of uniforms till we are drilled. General Collinson is sending us fifty lethal weapons--cut-down Sniders, he calls them--all carefully plugged." "Yes, that is necessary in a school that uses loaded saloon-pistols to the extent we do." The Reverend John smiled. "Therefore there will be no outlay except the Sergeant's time." "But if he fails you will be blamed." "Oh, assuredly. I shall post a notice in the corridor this afternoon, and--" "I shall watch the result." "Kindly keep your 'ands off the new arm-rack." Foxy wrestled with a turbulent crowd in the gymnasium. "Nor it won't do even a condemned Snider any good to be continual snappin' the lock, Mr. Swayne.--Yiss, the uniforms will come later, when we're more proficient; at present we will confine ourselves to drill. I am 'ere for the purpose o' takin' the names o' those willin' to join.--Put down that Snider, Muster Hogan!" "What are you goin' to do, Beetle?" said a voice. "I've had all the drill _I_ want, thank you." "What! After all you've learned? Come on! Don't be a scab! They'll make you corporal in a week," cried Stalky. "I'm not goin' up for the Army." Beetle touched his spectacles. "Hold on a shake, Foxy," said Hogan. "Where are you goin' to drill us?" "Here--in the gym--till you are fit an' capable to be taken out on the road." The Sergean
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