poral Keyte!
Terroop-Sergeant-Major Keyte, will you give me change for a quid?"

"Yes--yes, of course. Seven an' six." He stared abstractedly, pushed the
silver over, and melted away into the darkness of the back room.

"Now those two'll jaw about the Mutiny till tea-time," said Beetle.

"Old Keyte was at Sobraon," said Stalky. "Hear him talk about that
sometimes! Beats Foxy hollow."

The Head's face, inscrutable as ever, was bent over a pile of letters.

"What do you think?" he said at last to the Reverend John Gillett.

"It's a good idea. There's no denying that--an estimable idea."

"We concede that much. Well?"

"I have my doubts about it--that's all. The more I know of boys the less
do I profess myself capable of following their moods; but I own I shall
be very much surprised if the scheme takes. It--it isn't the temper of
the school. We prepare for the Army."

"My business--in _this_ matter--is to carry out the wishes of the
Council. They demand a volunteer cadet-corps. A volunteer cadet-corps
will be furnished. I have suggested, however, that we need not embark
upon the expense of uniforms till we are drilled. General Collinson is
sending us fifty lethal weapons--cut-down Sniders, he calls them--all
carefully plugged."

"Yes, that is necessary in a school that uses loaded saloon-pistols to
the extent we do." The Reverend John smiled.

"Therefore there will be no outlay except the Sergeant's time."

"But if he fails you will be blamed."

"Oh, assuredly. I shall post a notice in the corridor this afternoon,
and--"

"I shall watch the result."

"Kindly keep your 'ands off the new arm-rack." Foxy wrestled with a
turbulent crowd in the gymnasium. "Nor it won't do even a condemned
Snider any good to be continual snappin' the lock, Mr. Swayne.--Yiss,
the uniforms will come later, when we're more proficient; at present we
will confine ourselves to drill. I am 'ere for the purpose o' takin' the
names o' those willin' to join.--Put down that Snider, Muster Hogan!"

"What are you goin' to do, Beetle?" said a voice.

"I've had all the drill _I_ want, thank you."

"What! After all you've learned? Come on! Don't be a scab! They'll make
you corporal in a week," cried Stalky.

"I'm not goin' up for the Army." Beetle touched his spectacles.

"Hold on a shake, Foxy," said Hogan. "Where are you goin' to drill us?"

"Here--in the gym--till you are fit an' capable to be taken out on the
road." The Sergean