"Hush! don't be an insubordinate young idiot," interposed his comrade, hastily. "Here come two of them."
The sergeants sprang hastily to their feet, and, standing strictly to attention, saluted their superiors in proper military form.
"That's what I hate," went on McKay.
"Then you are no true soldier, and don't know what proper discipline means. They are as much bound to salute us as we them."
"Yes, but they don't."
"That's their want of manners; so much the worse for them. Besides, I am quite sure Mr. Wilders didn't mean it; he is far too good an officer—always civil-spoken, too, and considerate to the men."
"I object to saluting him more than any one else."
"Why, McKay! what's the matter with you? What particular fault have you to find with Mr. Wilders?"
"I am just as good as he is."
"In your own opinion, perhaps; not in that of this garrison—certainly not under the Mutiny Act and Articles of War."