man's belt and pulled him here and there.

(_Sergeant's whistle, and again Pickle comes diving into the tent.
"Undershirts only, for the sun's out hot. Take your towel if you want to
swim." That means calisthenics.--After forty minutes._)

Out we went to the drill field, took off (most of us) our remaining
shirts, and were put through nine hundred exercises till we dripped,
while ladies in their automobiles watched us from the top of the slope.
Hope they enjoyed it. When it was over we were dismissed where we stood
and streamed yelling to the beach, where we found Champlain, at the hot
end of this changeable day, able to repay us for all our sufferings.

Well, to finish the corporal story. The squad were perfect lambs in
Knudsen's hands, none daring to bleat, while all around us the other
squads were disputing in undertones and going wrong amid storms of
discontent. When we had got back to the tent, and had lost our emergency
non-com., Knudsen began to praise him for an excellent corporal. "He was
good so long as you had him in charge," said Corder. "Especially good on
that last deployment when you yanked him into place. If you don't want to
be promoted, man, let your superiors blunder, and don't correct them."
"The lieutenant wasn't looking," answered Knudsen meekly.

Now about (_call for supper_) about that telegram (_call for regimental
conference. I am now at the company tent waiting for the captain's
conference._) about that telegram of mine. _Where is Vera Wadsworth?_ For
when we were on the parade ground at the post this afternoon, learning to
pitch our shelter tents (which is another complicated affair, the
explanation of which I will reserve) we found ourselves deserted for a
while by our mentor the lieutenant, and were at the mercy of green
sergeants, who knew something, to be sure, but in whom we had no
confidence. Someone discovered him,--Pickle. "Gee," said that exponent of
classic English, "spot the lieutenant with a skirt." And there he was at
a distance, in talk with a tall girl, handsome, unless I miss my guess,
and Vera herself, if I have any knowledge of her figure, and of a certain
hat and parasol she lately affected. Quite at home there too, without a
chaperon, on the walk in front of the officers' houses, and without a
waiting automobile that brought her or would carry her away. What could
bring her here? Were her military relatives at this post? At any rate, I
thought they were now at the border