Our Battalion / Being Some Slight Impressions of His Majesty's Auxiliary Forces, in Camp and Elsewhere

RUDYARD KIPLING.
The boy hesitated as he looked down the wet street of the little country town.
I've 'arf a mind not to go, he said, blessed if I ain't——; then, after a pause, with hands in pockets and coat collar turned up, he lounged off, muttering, I'll see what Bill ses.
Bill was waiting at the corner, looking somewhat sheepishly at the miscellaneous display in a general shop window.
Goin'? he said, as the other came up. Don't think I shall—at any rate not to-night.
A depressing silence ensued, until a smart lad, with belt and bayonet, came by whistling and hailed them.
Wot O! Bill; you ought to be down at the ord'ly room by now, the sergeant's bin there ever so long. I told 'im I'd bring you two along to-night. Wot are you scared about? he continued, eyeing them critically.
Ain't scared about nothing; we was only waiting till the rain cleared off.
Well, 'urry up, I've got to go to the Arm'ry.
All right, said the first boy. Come on, Bill.
The boys stared furtively round the orderly-room, a little box partitioned off from the disused malt-house that served as drill shed. On the walls were highly-coloured posters, setting forth the various advantages of his Majesty's services, while in the corner a jumble of arms and equipment and a half-opened case of rifles caused them to nudge each other. A huge Sergeant was writing at a table covered with Army forms, drill books, and parade registers, amongst which a couple of cartridges attracted their attention.