“Thou art quick with thy brush and quick with thy eyes,” replied the man, smiling slightly and starting to go.  In the doorway he turned and said with a sudden gravity, quite as much to himself as to the bondsman:  “Please God that thou be as true in opinion.”

Left alone, the bondsman once more took his brush and broadened and strengthened the nose and forehead.  Just as he had completed these, the tavern-keeper came bustling out of the door.  “Wilt seek Joe Bagby an’ tell him tew git the Invincibles tewgether?” he cried.  “He intended tew review ‘em tew-morrer fer the ginral, an’ their Lordships says they’ll see ’em go through—­Why, strap me, man, what hast thou been at?”

“I’ve been making it a better portrait of the general than it ever was of the king.”

“But yer’ve drawn the wrong man!” exclaimed the publican.  “That quiet young man is not him.  ’T is the heavy-nosed man is his Excellency.”

“Nonsense!” retorted the bondsman.  “That loud-voiced fellow is Leftenant-Colonel Lee, a half-pay officer.  Many and many ’s the time I’ve seen him—­and if I had n’t, I’d have known the other for the general in a hundred.”

“I tell yer yer’re wrong,” moaned the hotel-keeper.  “Any one can see he’s a ginral, an’ ’t is he gives all the orders fer victuals an’ grog.”

Charles laughed as he descended from the barrel and the cart. “’T is ever the worst wheel in the cart which makes the most noise,” he said, and walked away.

Two hours later the Invincibles were bunched upon the green.  As the diners issued from the inn, Bagby gave an order.  With some slight confusion the company fell in, and two more orders brought their guns to “present arms.”

“Bravo!” exclaimed Lee.  “Here are some yokels who for once don’t hold their guns as if they were hoes.”

Joe, fairly swelling with the pride of the moment, came strutting forward.  When he was within ten feet of the officers he took off his hat and bowed very low.  “The Invincibles is ready to be put through their paces, your honour,” he announced.

“Damme!” sneered Lee, below his breath.  “Here ’s a mohair in command who does n’t so much as know the salute.”

The tall officer, despite his six feet and three inches of height, swung himself lightly into the saddle without using a stirrup, and rode forward.

“Proceed with the review, sir,” he said to Joe.

“Yes, sir—­that is, I mean—­your honour,” replied Joe; and, turning, he roared out, “Get ready to go on, fellows.  Attention!  Dress

Instant disorder was visible in the ranks, some doing one thing, and some another, while a man stepped forward three or four steps and shouted:  “Yer fergot ter git the muskets back ter the first persition, Joe.”

“Get into line, durn you!” shouted Joe; “an’ I’ll have something to say to you later, Zerubbabel Buntling.”

“O Lord!” muttered Lee to the other officers, most of whom were laughing.  “And they expect us to beat regulars with such!”