re the best cross-country
man of his shire, and Polson nipped over the bar and back again. At that
moment entered Captain Volnay, to whom the drill, saluting, said:

'It's no use wasting this man's time here, sir. Colonel's orders are
to get 'em through as fast as possible. He'd be better engaged at foot
drill.'

'Very good,' said Volnay. 'You can dismount, my man. Come with me.'

On the far side of the square a squad was at work at the sword exercise,
and the instructor's voice was bawling: 'Thrust, return, thrust--return.
Carry--so! Slope--so! Shun! Stand at ease!'

'Well,' said Volnay. 'How do you like it?'

'I shall like it well enough, I dare say. I haven't shaken into the
saddle yet.'

'I'm going to hand you over to this lot,' said Volnay, indicating the
squad with a motion of the hand. 'D'you know anything about it?'

'A bit,' the recruit answered. 'You see, it's been the dream of my life
to join, and I've been taking lessons.'

'Good old enthusiast!' said Volnay. 'I saw you meeting old Stayce. He's
a grand old sort. No finer soldier in the army. Regiment adores him. And
he has an eye for a man who does his duty. A nod's as good as a wink to
a blind horse, old Pol, eh?'

'I'll try,' said Polson.

'You'll try right enough. You're a good old pebble. I've got to
be professional, you understand. No end of a devil of a lot of
unpleasantness if these chaps suspected favouritism.'

'Oh,' said Polson, 'I'm at work. No playing _en amateur_.'

'That's the style. There are some of our fellows saying there'll be no
fighting. That's rubbish. There's glory in front of some of us, Polly.'

They went on in silence until they reached the guard.

'Shun!' roared the Sergeant, and the men clicked their heels together
and straightened their backs and tucked their chins in and assumed that
ramrod posture which the authorised drill-book of the day described as
'the free and unconstrained attitude of a soldier.'

'Sergeant,' said Volnay, 'this man has just joined, but Sergeant Gill
finds that he can ride and has dismissed him from the riding school. He
tells me that he's been taking lessons in sabre practice. Just put him
through his paces, will you?'

So the Sergeant set his squad to stand at ease again, and Polson, being
provided with a belt and sabre, was stuck up in front of it, feeling
absurdly like a trick ape on show.

'Draw--so! Slope--so! Prep--air! Prove distance!' and so on.

'Pursuin' practice. One. Cut