Ten minutes later, as a group of carpenters from the rifle range paused at the roadside, Greg chanced to glance backward. He was just in time to see Sergeant Mock limping out of the line of file-closers to sit down at the roadside.
His jaws set, Greg Holmes darted back.
"That's enough of this, Mock," he called. "You can't sham in B company. Your feet, I suppose?"
"Yes, sir," groaned the sergeant.
"First two men of the rear four of B company fall out and come here," Captain Holmes shouted.
Instantly the two men detached themselves from the company and came running back.
"Fix your bayonets," Greg ordered. "Bring Sergeant Mock in at the rear of the battalion. If he shirks, prod him with the points of your bayonets. Don't be brutal, but make the sergeant keep up at the rear of the battalion."
"Sir——-" began Mock protestingly.
"Quite enough for you, Sergeant Mock," Greg rapped out. "I'll have your feet examined by a surgeon when you come in. Unless the surgeon tells me that I'm wrong you may look for something to happen!"
As Greg turned and started to run back to the head of his company he thought he heard a sound like a hiss. In his opinion it came from some one in the group of carpenters, but he did not halt to investigate.