Next morning, however, in the cold light of day, the proposition had lost something of its charms for Kettle.  The yellow stripes down his legs did not appear quite so overwhelmingly fascinating.  He remembered that Sergeant McGillicuddy was afraid to ride in the buggy behind the milkman’s horse.  Sergeant Halligan did not give Kettle any time to repent of his decision, and promptly appeared at ten o’clock and escorted Kettle to the recruiting office.  The recruiting sergeant was on hand and Sergeant Halligan explained Kettle’s martial enthusiasm.  Something like a wink passed between Sergeant Halligan and Gully, the recruiting sergeant, who agreed to enlist Kettle, under the name of Solomon Ezekiel Pickup, as a unit in the army of the United States.

A sudden illumination came to Kettle.  “Yon c’yarn’ enlist me in no white regiment,” cried Kettle to Sergeant Halligan, “I’m a nigger and you have to put me in a nigger regiment.”

“Oh, that’s all right,” responded Sergeant Halligan, airily, “we can get you in all right, and we’ll be proud to have you.  Won’t we, Gully?”

“Certainly,” replied Sergeant Gully, “we can fix that up.  It’s fixed up already.”

The rapidity of the proceedings rather startled Kettle.

“But doan’ the doctor have to thump me, and pound me, and count my teeth?” he asked.  Kettle had not spent twenty years at army posts without finding out something.

“No, indeed,” answered Sergeant Gully, who was a chum of Sergeant Halligan, “not with such a husky feller as you.  I can thump and pound and count your teeth.”

With that Gully made a physical examination of Kettle, and declared that no surgeon who ever lived would turn down such a magnificent specimen of robust manhood as Kettle.

All this was very disheartening to Kettle but seemed of great interest to Sergeant Halligan and his side partner, Sergeant Gully, and also to the orderly, who grinned sympathetically with the two sergeants.

“I say,” said Sergeant Gully, “there’s nothing doing here this morning and I’ll just leave the orderly in charge and step in with you and introduce Private Pickup to the drill sergeant.  The sergeant is a honey, but the bees don’t know it.”

Then, with Sergeant Halligan on one side of him and Sergeant Gully on the other, Kettle started across the plaza in the clear morning light for the great riding hall.  By this time Kettle was thoroughly alarmed.

The sight of the class in riding, smart young privates, marching gaily into the drill hall, made Kettle feel very uneasy about the riding.

“How ’bout the milkman’s hoss?” asked Kettle anxiously.

“The milkman’s horse?  The milkman’s horse?” sniffed Sergeant Halligan, “D’ye think I’m an infernal fool to put such a proposition up to the orficer in charge of mounts?  He’d kick me full of holes if I did.”

“But I say,” replied Kettle, spurred by fear, “you is a deceiver, suh—­a deceiver, and I’m a’goin to tell the Kun’l on you and he’ll do for you—­that he will.”