The big rifleman was standing stiffly at attention before Tom, his arm at the salute.
"Take the torch and this trooper with you. Go round; return when you have inspected, and report."
The soldier saluted again with as much briskness as he would have displayed had Tom been a regular officer, and went away with one of the troopers whom Tom called.
"Howeley!" he shouted.
"Sir?"
Like Andrews, the man was drawn up with the rigidity of a bayonet.
"Collect all ammunition, place it in a central position, and dish it out ten rounds at a time. Report the total amount."
"Yes, sir."
The fine fellow went off like a rocket to perform the task, while Tom called to the troopers.
"My lads," he shouted, "let us be silent; I have sent a man to inspect the place, and will post you all presently. Another will collect the ammunition, and give it out ten rounds at a time. Don't forget that we may be held up here for hours, and our lives will depend on the amount of cartridges we have. Now, I want two of you for another purpose."