“There’s only one thing you’ve forgotten,” remarked Captain Wagstaffe, when introduced to this unique collection of curios.

“What is that?” inquired Bobby, always eager to learn.

“A pantechnicon!  Do you known how much personal baggage an officer is allowed, in addition to what he carries himself?”

“Thirty-five pounds.”

“Correct.”

“It sounds a lot,” said Bobby.

“It looks precious little!” was Wagstaffe’s reply.

“I suppose they won’t be particular to a pound or so,” said Bobby optimistically.

“Listen,” commanded Wagstaffe.  “When we go abroad, your Wolseley valise, containing this”—­he swept his hand round the crowded hut—­“this military museum, will be handed to the Quartermaster.  He is a man of singularly rigid mind, with an exasperating habit of interpreting rules and regulations quite literally.  If you persist in this scheme of asking him to pass half a ton of assorted lumber as a package weighing thirty-five pounds, he will cast you forth and remain your enemy for life.  And personally,” concluded Wagstaffe, “I would rather keep on the right side of my Regimental Quartermaster than of the Commander-in-Chief himself.  Now, send all this stuff home—­you can use it on manoeuvres in peace-time—­and I will give you a little list which will not break the baggage-waggon’s back.”

The methodical Bobby produced a notebook.

“You will require to wash occasionally.  Take a canvas bucket, some carbolic soap, and a good big towel.  Also your toothbrush, and—­excuse the question, but do you shave?”

“Twice a week,” admitted the blushing Bobby.

“Happy man!  Well, take a safety-razor.  That will do for cleanliness.  Now for clothing.  Lots of socks, but only one change of other things, unless you care to take a third shirt in your greatcoat pocket.  Two good pairs of boots, and a pair of slacks.  Then, as regards sleeping.  Your flea-bag and your three Government blankets, with your valise underneath, will keep you (and your little bedfellows) as warm as toast.  You may get separated from your valise, though, so take a ground-sheet in your pack.  Then you will be ready to dine and sleep simply anywhere, at a moment’s notice.  As regards comforts generally, take a ‘Tommy’s cooker,’ if you can find room for it, and scrap all the rest of your cuisine except your canteen.  Take a few meat lozenges and some chocolate in one of your ammunition-pouches, in case you ever have to go without your breakfast.  Rotten work, marching or fighting on a hollow tummy!”

“What about revolvers?” inquired Bobby, displaying his arsenal, a little nervously.