The long, dusty line of khaki-clad soldiers, at the word, dropped out of ranks, finding seats on the ground near where they had left the ranks.
Behind the men, now stopped, the wagon train came up and also halted.
Not far from the head of the line that morning stood the log cabin of the old-time hunter.
Though the military did not suspect it, a sharp pair of old eyes peered out through a chink in the cabin wall.
Then the cabin door opened, the old-time hunter sauntering slowly forth.
At sight of him Corporal Raynes, C Company, tried to shrink into smaller space than he had ever succeeded in occupying before.
"Which side won the tom-fool match?" inquired the aged hunter of a pleasant-faced young man on whose shoulders glistened the plain straps of a second lieutenant.
"B Company won the miniature manœuvres by capturing C Company, if that's what you mean, sir," replied Lieutenant Dick Prescott pleasantly.
"B Company?" cried the old man almost indignantly. "Why, B Company stood for the Japs, didn't they!"
"Not that I've heard, sir," answered Prescott. "B Company and C Company represented two forces that were supposed to be hostile to each other. Neither side was designated by the name of any country."