“Look-a-here, Solomon Ezekiel Pickup,” shouted Sergeant Halligan savagely, “it’s against the regulations to talk to your superior orficers so damned impudent, and I’m a going to prefer charges against you, and you can face three months in the military prison for it.  And I’m a-thinkin’ that Briggs, the drill sergeant, will put you on the kickingest horse in the regimental stables.  Sergeant Gully here says the drill sergeant is a honey, but he’s awful mistaken.  I’ve known Briggs ever since we was rookies together, and he’s a cruel man, and has caused the death of several rookies by his murderin’ ways.”

Just then the three came face to face with Sergeant McGillicuddy.  In those days McGillicuddy’s honest face was gloomy and he had not much spirit for jokes, but he laughed when Sergeant Halligan explained to him that Sergeant Gully had enlisted Kettle and had passed him both mentally and physically, and that he was then on his way to take his first lesson in riding.

Sergeant McGillicuddy went his way, laughing, for once in a blue moon, and Kettle, marching between the two sergeants, felt like a prisoner on his way to execution.

Arrived at the great drill hall, now dim and silent except for a batch of recruits, and Briggs, the drill sergeant, a trooper brought in Corporal, a handsome sorrel, and the model of a trained cavalry charger.  The trooper at the same time handed the Sergeant a long whip.  Corporal, the charger, understood as well as any trooper in the regiment what the crack of the whip meant, from walk, trot, to gallop.  As Kettle appeared, almost dragged in by the two sergeants, a grin went around among the young recruits, ruddy-skinned and clear-eyed youngsters, well set up and worthy to wear the uniform of their country.

A whispered conversation followed among the three sergeants and although Kettle was not in uniform as the other recruits were, Sergeant Briggs, for a reason imparted to him by Sergeant Halligan, called out to Kettle: 

“Here, Pickup, you get up, and you stay up, and if you don’t you’ll get a whack up!”

This passed for a witticism to the recruits, who made it a point to laugh at all the drill sergeant’s jokes.  Kettle, with much difficulty, managed to climb on Corporal’s back and crouched there in a heap.  Corporal turned his mild intelligent eyes toward Sergeant Briggs, as much as to say: 

“What kind of a fool have I got on my back now?”

“Take the reins and let her go, Gallagher!” said the sergeant with a crack of his whip.

Corporal, seeing his duty, did it.  He started off in a brisk walk around the tanbark, and in twenty seconds he heard another crack, and still another, which sent him into a hard gallop.  As the horse quickened his pace, Kettle dropped the reins, and grasping Corporal around the neck, hung on desperately as the horse sped around the great ellipse.  At a word from Sergeant Briggs, the horse stopped and walked sedately to the middle of the hall.  Kettle slipped off and staggered to his feet.