t threw a chest.

"For all the Northam cads to look at? Not good enough, Foxibus."

"Well, we won't make a point of it. You learn your drill first, an'
later we'll see."

"Hullo," said Ansell of Macrea's, shouldering through the mob. "What's
all this about a giddy cadet-corps?"

"It will save you a lot o' time at Sandburst," the Sergeant replied
promptly. "You'll be dismissed your drills early if you go up with a
good groundin' before'and."

"Hm! 'Don't mind learnin' my drill, but I'm not goin' to ass about the
country with a toy Snider. Perowne, what are you goin' to do? Hogan's
joinin'."

"Don't know whether I've the time," said Perowne. "I've got no end of
extra-tu as it is."

"Well, call this extra-tu," said Ansell. "'Twon't take us long to mug up
the drill."

"Oh, that's right enough, but what about marchin' in public?" said
Hogan, not foreseeing that three years later he should die in the
Burmese sun-light outside Minhla Fort.

"Afraid the uniform won't suit your creamy complexion?" McTurk asked
with a villainous sneer.

"Shut up, Turkey. You aren't goin' up for the Army."

"No, but I'm goin' to send a substitute. Hi! Morrell an' Wake! You two
fags by the arm-rack, you've got to volunteer."

Blushing deeply--they had been too shy to apply before--the youngsters
sidled towards the Sergeant.

"But I don't want the little chaps--not at first," said the
Sergeant disgustedly. "I want--I'd like some of the Old Brigade the
defaulters--to stiffen 'em a bit."

"Don't be ungrateful, Sergeant. They're nearly as big as you get 'em
in the Army now." McTurk read the papers of those years and could be
trusted for general information, which he used as he used his "tweaker."
Yet he did not know that Wake minor would be a bimbashi of the Egyptian
Army ere his thirtieth year.

Hogan, Swayne, Stalky, Perowne, and Ansell were deep in consultation by
the vaulting-horse, Stalky as usual laying down the law. The Sergeant
watched them uneasily, knowing that many waited on their lead.

"Foxy don't like my recruits," said McTurk, in a pained tone, to Beetle.
"You get him some."

Nothing loath, Beetle pinioned two more fags--each no taller than a
carbine. "Here you are, Foxy. Here's food for powder. Strike for your
hearths an' homes, you young brutes--an' be jolly quick about it."

"Still he isn't happy," said McTurk.

"For the way we have with our Army
Is the way we have with our Navy."

Here Beetle joined