sh supply, the Colonel of the regiment
took advantage of the pause to whisper in his ear:

"Don't be too rough on him, please. He's a good man but green. Promoted
from the ranks for courage in action. First appearance on parade. He'll
do better if given a chance."

The Inspector's anger was mollified. Addressing himself to all the
officers, he continued in a milder tone:

"Gentlemen, you seem to be making progress in acquiring a knowledge of
your duties, though you have a world of things yet to learn. I shall say
so in my report to the General. You can go to your quarters."

The line of officers dissolved, and the spectators began to melt away.
Alspaugh's assurance rose buoyantly the moment that the pressure was
removed. He raised his eyes from the ground, and looked for the young
ladies. They had turned their backs and were leaving the ground. He
hastened after them, fabricating as he walked an explanation, based on
personal jealousy, of the Inspector's treatment of him. He was within
a step of overtaking them when he heard one say, with toss of flaunting
ribbons, and hoidenish giggle:

"Did you EVER see ANY-body wilt as Alspaugh did when old
Bite-Your-Head-Off-In-a-Minute was jawing him? It was so awfully FUNNY
that I just thought I SHOULD DIE."

The sentence ended with the picturesque rapid CRESCENDO employed by
maidens of her type in describing a convulsive experience.

"Just didn't he," joined in another. "I never saw ANY-thing so funny in
all my BORN DAYS. I was AFRAID to look at either one of YOU; I knew if I
DID I would BURST RIGHT OUT laughing. I couldn't've HELPED it--I know I
COULDN'T, if I'd'a knowed I'd'a DIED the next MINUTE."

"This would seem to be a pretty good time to drop the fellow," added the
third girl, reflectively.

Alspaugh turned and went in another direction. At the 9 o'clock
roll-call he informed the company that the Inspector was well pleased
with its appearance on parade.

Chapter VIII. The Tedium of Camp.

And you, good yeoman,
Whose limbs were made in England, show us here
The mettle of your pasture; let us swear
That you are worth your breeding. --Henry V.

To really enjoy life in a Camp of Instruction requires a peculiar cast
of mind. It requires a genuine liking for a tread-mill round of merely
mechanical duties; it requires a taste for rising in the chill and
cheerless dawn, at the unwelcome summons of "reveille," to a long day
fil