Sabre came last to the officer with the stethoscope. He was just
polishing off the undersized little man with the truss. "Take that thing
off. Cough. How long have you had this? Go along." He turned to Sabre,
dabbed perfunctorily at his lungs, then at his heart. "Wait a minute."
He applied his ear to the stethoscope again. Then he looked up at
Sabre's face. "Had any illnesses?" "Not one in my life." "Shortness of
breath?" "Not the least. I was in the XV at school." Sabre's voice was
tremulous with eagerness. The doctor's eyes appeared to exchange a
message with him. They gave the slightest twinkle. "Go along."

He went to the table where sat the two officers with the paper forms.
"Name?" "Sabre." The officer nearer him drew a form towards him and
poised a fountain pen over it. Sabre felt it extraordinarily odd to be
standing stark naked before two men fully dressed. In his rejection at
Tidborough the time before this had not happened.

"Any complaints?"

Sabre was surprised at such consideration. He thought the reference was
to his treatment during examination. "No."

The officer, who appeared to be short-tempered, glanced again at the
form and then looked quickly at him. "Absolutely nothing wrong with
you?"

"Oh, I thought you meant--"

The officer _was_ short-tempered. "Never mind what you _thought_. You
hear what I'm asking you, don't you?"

It was Sabre's first experience of a manner with which he was to become
more familiar. "Sorry. No, nothing whatever."

The fountain pen made a note. "Get off."

He could have shouted aloud. He thought, "By God!"

In the dressing room a sergeant bawled, "All recruits!"--paused and
glared about the room and drew breath for further discharge. This
mannerism Sabre was also to become accustomed to: in the Army, always
"the cautionary word" first when an order was given. The sergeant then
discharged: "All recruits past the doctor proceed to the room under this
for swearing in. When sworn, to office adjoining for pay, card and
armlet. And get a move on with it!"

VIII

The most stupendously elated man in all England was presently riding to
Penny Green on Sabre's bicycle. On his arm blazed the khaki brassard, in
the breast pocket of his waistcoat, specially cleared to give private
accommodation to so glorious a prize, were a half-crown and two pennies,
the most thrillingly magnificent sum he had ever earned,--his army pay.
His singing thought was, "I'm in the Army! I'm