“But not our way, of course. Done a little hunting at home, I suppose?”
“Yes, a little; but my father never encouraged me in it.”
“Of course not. Well, I’m glad you have joined, Darrell, and we will do our best to make you like the troop; but I’m afraid you will find our drill a bit rough, for we stand first as smart troop, and we have to work hard to keep our position.—I’m busy, Wyatt; so you must take Darrell round and show him the men, horses, and guns.”
“Right,” said Wyatt.—“Come along, Dick, my lad.”
“I wish he wasn’t so fond of Dicking me,” thought the boy; “but I suppose it’s his way.”
Chapter IV.
Such a Boy!
Wyatt performed his task thoroughly,
“You shall see the guns first,” he said: and he marched his new brother-officer across to the gun-shed, where a smart, six-foot gunner in undress uniform drew himself up to salute as they passed to where the light six-pounders stood in an exact line, with their limbers and ammunition-boxes, rammers, sponges, and trails—the very perfection of neatness, and everything that would bear a polish shining like a gem.
On the walls were rockets in racks, and stands for their discharge were close at hand; while spare wheels and tackle of every kind possible to be wanted, and beautifully clean, took Dick’s attention, showing, as they did, the perfect management over all.