“Now.”
Mauney read it accurately.
“All right,” said Poynton, removing the frame, and scribbling some hieroglyphics on a slip of paper. “That’s all I want. Take this chit in to Captain Blackburn.”
“Where’s he?”
“He’s the officer who examined you.”
“Thank you,” said Mauney, returning to the room from which he had come. There were still half a dozen recruits stripped, undergoing examination. He waited until Captain Blackburn should be disengaged.
“Ever had rheumatism?” Blackburn was asking one of the candidates, while he percussed his chest.
“No,” said a voice which seemed very familiar to Mauney.
“Cough! All right! Now turn around.”
As the recruit turned, Mauney was astonished to behold the sun-burned face of Snowball. He would have exclaimed aloud, but already he felt the humility of a private soldier restraining him in an officer’s presence.