On coming out of academy I met Smart, who hook hands with me and congratulated me on passing. “It’s quite wonderful,” he said; “and Hostler, I hear, is tearing his hair with rage at it, for he laughed at the idea of your having a chance.”
“Where is Fraser,” I inquired, “and Fuller, and all those fellows that came up?”
“They are all spun, and I’m the only one from Hostler’s who has passed this time. Fraser now is too old, even if he could get another trial, which he can’t. I often thought I could beat Fraser and Hunt at exams, for they used to cram fearfully—but how you must have worked!”
“Well, I didn’t seem to work so much,” I replied, “though I got on very fast. It was Mr Rouse’s style of teaching that was so good.”
“Hostler says you are certain to be spun at your probationary, as you must have been crammed just for this examination.”
“What is a probationary?”
“It’s the exam, you have to pass at the end of a year. If you don’t pass that satisfactorily, you are sent away from here.”
I then inquired of Smart whether, on his joining, he had met with the same rough treatment that I had, and he informed me he had experienced much the same. The head of his room was a very good fellow, and not at all a bully; but that two cadets who had been smashed from corporals were in his division, and were “awful bullies.” He also informed me that Timpson and Snipson had the reputation of being the greatest bullies in the Academy.
Smart had to leave me, as he had to go down town for the head of his room, and, on leaving, recommended me to get my uniform as soon as I could, for as long as I was in plain clothes I was a mark to be bullied.
Nothing remarkable happened during the remainder of the day. At half-past nine an officer came round the rooms, and received from the senior cadet a report to the effect that all were present, that no lights were concealed in the room, and that he had no intention of procuring a light.