"Cyclops is not going. I stopped it. A race full of amateur jockeys is dangerous enough, without a one-eyed brute of a pony no one can hold joining in. So I just told Carson I wouldn't have it, and there was an end of it."
"Why ain't Graeme performing, Bob?" asked Brass. "He used to go like smoke at home with the Bicester."
"Captain Graeme don't ride now, except on parade, when he has to," answered O'Hagan, again glancing towards the corner and meeting Hector's eyes over the top of the paper. This was instantly raised, however, and encouraged by the surrender O'Hagan continued:
"What do you do with unsporting fellows in your regiment, Ramp?" he observed.
"Show 'em we don't want 'em," was the answer.
"But if they won't go, what then?"
"Get the Colonel to report badly on them, but surely Graeme..."
"Oh, I wasn't talking about him, of course, brother officer, you know, Ramp, and all that. Still," lowering his voice, though speaking very distinctly, "as you are aware, every regiment has its undesirables, useless fellows no one likes; one doesn't talk about it, of course, but there it is."
"He's a devilish good shot, is Graeme," said Brass, "best I ever saw, I think."
"Cavalry fellows ought to be fond of riding," squeaked Jackie, "that's their game, not shooting."