in. They had found the poem in an old volume of
"Punch," and it seemed to cover the situation:

"An' both of 'em led to adversity,
Which nobody can deny!"

"You be quiet, young gentlemen. If you can't 'elp--don't 'inder." Foxy's
eye was still on the council by the horse. Carter, White, and Tyrrell,
all boys of influence, had joined it. The rest fingered the rifles
irresolutely. "Wait a shake," cried Stalky. "Can't we turn out those
rotters before we get to work?"

"Certainly," said Foxy. "Any one wishful to join will stay 'ere. Those
who do not so intend will go out, quietly closin' the door be'ind 'em."

Half a dozen of the earnest-minded rushed at them, and they had just
time to escape into the corridor.

"Well, why don't you join?" Beetle asked, resettling his collar.

"Why didn't you?"

"What's the good? We aren't goin' up for the Army. Besides, I know the
drill--all except the manual, of course. 'Wonder what they're doin'
inside?"

"Makin' a treaty with Foxy. Didn't you hear Stalky say: 'That's what
we'll do--an' if he don't like it he can lump it'? They'll use Foxy for
a cram. Can't you see, you idiot? They're goin' up for Sandhurst or the
Shop in less than a year. They'll learn their drill an' then they'll
drop it like a shot. D'you suppose chaps with their amount of extra-tu
are takin' up volunteerin' for fun?"

"Well, I don't know. I thought of doin' a poem about it--rottin' 'em,
you know--'The Ballad of the Dogshooters'--eh?"

"I don't think you can, because King'll be down on the corps like a
cartload o' bricks. He hasn't been consulted, he's sniffin' round the
notice-board now. Let's lure him." They strolled up carelessly towards
the honse-master--a most meek couple.

"How's this?" said King with a start of feigned surprise. "Methought you
would be learning to fight for your country."

"I think the company's full, sir," said McTurk.

"It's a great pity," sighed Beetle.

"Forty valiant defenders, have we, then? How noble! What devotion!
I presume that it is possible that a desire to evade their normal
responsibilities may be at the bottom of this zeal. Doubtless they will
be accorded special privileges, like the Choir and the Natural History
Society--one must not say Bug-hunters."

"Oh, I suppose so, sir," said McTurk, cheerily. "The Head hasn't said
anything about it yet, but he will, of course."

"Oh, sure to."

"It is just possible, my Beetle," King wheeled on the last speaker,