nock 'im out of time. On guard!"

The men in each rank brought the butts of their rifles on to their right
hips and pointed with their left feet forward at the breasts of the men
opposite. "Rest!" The rifles were brought to earth between twelve pairs
of feet. "Point! Withdraw! On guard!" They pointed, withdrew, and were
on guard again with the precision of piston-rods.

"Now watch me, for your life may depend upon it," and the corporal
proceeded to give them the low parry which is useful when you are taking
trenches and find a _chevaux-de-frise_ of the enemy's bayonets
confronting you. Each rank knocked an imaginary bayonet aside and
pointed at invisible feet. The high parry followed. So far the men had
been merely nodding at each other across a space of some twelve yards,
and it was hot work and tedious. The sweat ran down their faces, which
glistened in the sun. "Now I'm going to give you the butt exercises";
they brightened visibly.

"I am pointing--so!--and 'ave been parried. I bring the butt round on
'is shoulder, using my weight on it. I bring my left leg behind 'is left
leg. I throw 'im over. Then I give the beggar what for. So!" The words
were hardly out of his mouth before he had thrown himself upon the
nearest private and laid him prostrate. The others smiled faintly as No.
98678 picked himself up and nonchalantly returned to his old position as
if this were a banal compliment. "Now then. First butt exercise." One
rank advanced upon the other, and the two ranks were locked in a close
embrace. They remained thus with muscles strung like bowstrings,
immobile as a group of statuary.

"That'll do. Now I'll give you the second butt exercise. You bring the
butt round on 'is jaw--so!--and then kick 'im in the guts with your
knee." Perhaps the section, which stood like a wall of masonry, looked
surprised; more probably the surprise was mine. But the corporal
explained. "Don't think you're Tottenham Hotspur in the Cup Final. Never
mind giving 'im a foul. You've got to 'urt 'im or 'e'll 'urt you. Kick
'im anywhere with your knees or your feet. Your ammunition boots will
make 'im feel it. No!"--he turned to a young private whose left hand was
grasping his rifle high up between the fore-sight and the
indicator--"You mustn't do that. Always get your 'and between the
back-sight and the breech. So! The back-sight will protect your fingers
from being cut by the other fellow. Now the third butt exercise."

As we turned aw