“Ah, I see. Who is that apprentice?”
“I believe his name is Flink, sir.”
“Who threw him out?”
“My friend, Hickey, sir.”
“Very well; you may go.”
Dan made his way around the base of the embankment, and a few moments later joined his companions in the drill hall, where he saluted his superior, fell in and began his practice work once more.
Sam’s face was as solemn as he could make it. Flink, on the contrary, when he rejoined the squad, was scowling angrily. He was dust-covered, his face smeared and altogether he presented a most ludicrous sight.
They were once more being put through the manual of arms when a messenger approached the quartermaster. A brief conversation ensued.
The quartermaster ran his eyes down the line.
“Hickey, fall out!” he commanded.