y, full of
congratulations, moved on to inspect the performance of Private Budge,
an extremely nervous subject: who, thanks to the fact that public
attention had been concentrated so far upon Lindsay, and that his
ministering sergeant was a matter-of-fact individual of few words, had
put on two bulls--eight points. He now required to score only nine
points in three shots.

Suddenly the hapless youth became aware of the breathless group in his
rear. He promptly pulled his trigger, and just nicked the outside edge
of the target--two points.

"I doot I'm gettin' a thing nairvous," he muttered apologetically to
the sergeant.

"Havers! Shut your held and give the bull a bash!" responded that
admirable person.

The twitching Budge, bracing himself, scored an inner--three points.

"A bull, and we do it!" murmured Bobby Little. Fortunately Budge did
not hear.

"Ye're no daen badly," admitted the sergeant grudgingly.

Budge, a little piqued, determined to do better. He raised his
foresight slowly; took the first pull; touched "six o'clock" on the
distant bull--luckily the light was perfect--and took the second pull
for the last time.

Next moment a white disc rose slowly out of the earth and covered the
bull's-eye.

So Bobby Little was able next morning to congratulate his disciples
upon being "the best-shooting platoon in the best-shooting Company in
the best-shooting Battalion in the Brigade."

Not less than fifty other subalterns within a radius of five miles
were saying the same thing to their platoons. It is right to foster a
spirit of emulation in young troops.

VIII

BILLETS

_Scene, a village street, deserted. Rain falls_. (It has been falling
for about three weeks.) _A tucket sounds. Enter, reluctantly,
soldiery. They grouse. There appear severally, in doorways, children.
They stare. And at chamber-windows, serving-maids. They make eyes. The
soldiery make friendly signs_.

Such is the stage setting for our daily morning parade. We have been
here for some weeks now, and the populace is getting used to us. But
when we first burst upon this peaceful township I think we may say,
without undue egoism, that we created a profound sensation. In this
sleepy corner of Hampshire His Majesty's uniform, enclosing a casual
soldier or sailor on furlough, is a common enough sight, but a whole
regiment on the march is the rarest of spectacles. As for this
tatterdemalion northern horde, which swept down the s