ced than usual, on receipt
of the appalling news.

"Thank God I have nothing to do but sit around on my horse," murmured
Major Pinto.

"Don't return thanks yet," snapped Colonel Dearman. "You'll very likely
have to drill the battalion"--and the Major went as white as his natural
disadvantages permitted.

Bitterly did Captain Trebizondi regret his constant insistence upon the
fact that he was senior Captain--for he was given command of "A"
Company, the post of honour and danger in front of all, and was implored
to "pull it through" and not to stand staring like an owl when the
Colonel said the battalion would advance; or turn to the left when he
shouted "In succession advance in fours from the right of Companies".

And in the orderly-room was much hurried consulting of Captain
Ross-Ellison's well-trained subaltern and of drill-books; and a babel of
such questions as: "I say, what the devil do I do if I'm commanding
Number Two and he says 'Deploy outwards'? Go to the right or left?"

More than one gallant officer was seen scribbling for dear life upon his
shirt-cuff, while others, to the common danger, endeavoured to practise
the complicated sword-brandishment which is consequent upon the order
"Fall out the Officers".

Colonel Dearman appealed to his brothers-in-arms to stand by him nobly
in his travail, but was evidently troubled by the fear that some of them
would stand by him when they ought to march by him. Captain
Petropaulovski, the acting-adjutant, endeavoured to moisten his parched
lips with a dry tongue and sat down whenever opportunity offered.

Captain Euxino Spoophitophiles was seen to tear a page from a red manual
devoted to instruction in the art of drill and to secrete it as one
"palms" a card--if one is given to the palming of cards. Captain
Schloggenboschenheimer was heard to promise a substantial _trink-geld_,
_pour-boire_, or vot-you-call-tip to Sergeant-Instructor Progg in the
event of the latter official remaining mit him and prompting him mit
der-vord-to-say ven it was necessary for him der-ting-to-do.

Too late, Captain Da Costa bethought him of telephoning to his wife (to
telephone back to himself imploring him to return at once as she was
parlous ill and sinking fast), for even as he stepped quietly toward the
telephone-closet the Sergeant-Major bustled in with a salute and the
fatal words:--

"'Ere's the General, Sir!"

"For God's sake get on parade and play the man this day," cried