“Are your buttons of metal or bone, my man?  Polish them and find out.”

“What did you cook in that helmet?”

“Take your belt in seven holes, and put it where your waist was.”

“Are you fourteen years old yet?”

“Personally I don’t care to see brown boots, patent shoes nor carpet slippers with uniform.”

“And when were you ninety, my poor fellow?”

“Get your belly out of my way.”

“Put this unclean person under arrest or under a pump, please, Colonel.”

“Can you load a rifle unaided?” and so forth.

The last-mentioned query “Can you load a rifle unaided?” addressed to a weedy youth of seventeen who stood like a living mark-of-interrogation, elicited the reply:—­

“Nossir”.

“Oh, really!  And what can you do?” replied the General sweetly.

“Load a rifle Lee-Metford,” was the prompt answer.

The General smiled wintrily, and, at the conclusion of his peregrination, remarked to Colonel Dearman:—­

“Well, Colonel, I can safely say that I have never inspected a corps quite like yours”—­an observation capable of various interpretations—­and intimated a desire to witness some company drill ere testing the abilities of the regiment in battalion drill.

“Let the rear company march out and go through some movements,” said he.

“Why the devil couldn’t he have chosen Ross-Ellison’s company,” thought Colonel Dearman, as he saluted and lifted up his voice and cried aloud:—­

“Captain Rozario!  March ‘G’ Company out for some company-drill.  Remainder—­stand easy.”

Captain Rozario paled beneath the bronze imparted to his well-nourished face by the suns of Portugal (or Goa), drew his sword, dropped it, picked it up, saluted with his left hand and backed into Lieutenant Xenophontis of “F” Company, who asked him vare the devil he was going to—­hein?...

To the first cold stroke of fright succeeded the hot flush of rage as Captain Rozario saw the absurdity of ordering him to march his company out for company drill.  How in the name of all the Holy Saints could he march his company out with six companies planted in front of him?  Let them be cleared away first.  To his men he ejaculated:—­

“Compannee——!” and they accepted the remark in silence.

The silence growing tense he further ejaculated “Ahem!” very loudly, without visible result or consequence.  The silence growing tenser, Colonel Dearman said encouragingly but firmly:—­

“Do something, Captain Rozario”.

Captain Rozario did something.  He drew his whistle.  He blew it.  He replaced it in his pocket.

Nothing happening, he took his handkerchief from his sleeve, blew his nose therewith and dropped it (the handkerchief) upon the ground.  Seven obliging volunteers darted forward to retrieve it.

“May we expect the evolutions this evening, Colonel?” inquired General Murger politely.