h. Nothing like a night-alarm
and a little cutting up of stragglers to make a Regiment smart in the
field. Wait till they've had half-a-dozen sentries' throats cut.'

The Colonel wrote with delight that the temper of his men was
excellent, that the Regiment was all that could be wished and as sound
as a bell. The Majors smiled with a sober joy, and the subalterns
waltzed in pairs down the Mess-room after dinner, and nearly shot
themselves at revolver-practice. But there was consternation in the
hearts of Jakin and Lew. What was to be done with the Drums? Would the
Band go to the Front? How many of the Drums would accompany the
Regiment?

They took counsel together, sitting in a tree and smoking.

'It's more than a bloomin' toss-up they'll leave us be'ind at the
Depot with the women. You'll like that,' said Jakin sarcastically.

''Cause o' Cris, y' mean? Wot's a woman, or a 'ole bloomin' depot o'
women, 'longside o' the chanst of field-service? You know I'm as keen
on goin' as you,' said Lew.

''Wish I was a bloomin' bugler,' said Jakin sadly. 'They'll take Tom
Kidd along, that I can plaster a wall with, an' like as not they won't
take us.'

'Then let's go an' make Tom Kidd so bloomin' sick 'e can't bugle no
more. You 'old 'is 'ands an' I'll kick him,' said Lew, wriggling on
the branch.

'That ain't no good neither. We ain't the sort o' characters to
presoom on our rep'tations--they're bad. If they leave the Band at the
Depot we don't go, and no error _there_. If they take the Band we may
get cast for medical unfitness. Are you medical fit, Piggy?' said
Jakin, digging Lew in the ribs with force.

'Yus,' said Lew with an oath. 'The Doctor says your 'eart's weak
through smokin' on an empty stummick. Throw a chest an' I'll try yer.'

Jakin threw out his chest, which Lew smote with all his might. Jakin
turned very pale, gasped, crowed, screwed up his eyes, and
said--'That's all right.'

'You'll do,' said Lew. 'I've 'eard o' men dyin' when you 'it 'em fair
on the breastbone.'

'Don't bring us no nearer goin', though,' said Jakin. 'Do you know
where we're ordered?'

'Gawd knows, an' 'E won't split on a pal. Somewheres up to the Front
to kill Paythans--hairy big beggars that turn you inside out if they
get 'old o' you. They say their women are good-looking, too.'

'Any loot?' asked the abandoned Jakin.

'Not a bloomin' anna, they say, unless you dig up the ground an' see
what the niggers 'ave 'id. They're a p