The hour drew to a close with a final strenuous series of left and right wheels and the Winnebagos sought the shade of the trees along the roadside and fanned themselves with leaves.
"How did we do to-day, Miss Raper?" inquired Agony, as the drill sergeant prepared to depart.
"I congratulate you," replied Miss Raper with sarcastic wit. "I never saw it done worse."
The company recognized the fact that it was a tactical error to try to draw any praises to themselves from Miss Raper. Yet they did not consider themselves abused, nor did they harbor any hard feelings toward her on account of her sharp tongue. They realized that she was a "crackerjack" trainer, and for the sake of winning that contest they were willing to endure her caustic comments meekly.
"I'll never get left and right wheel correctly," sighed Oh-Pshaw with a discouraged air. "No matter which one she says, I always go in the opposite direction. I get so fussed when she looks at me that I can't tell my left foot from my right."
"Never mind, you'll get it in time," said Migwan soothingly. "I had the same trouble at first, but I'm getting sort of used to her now."
"I'm awfully stupid about things like that," mourned Oh-Pshaw, "and I'm afraid I'll never get over getting fussed. I never could stand up in front of anybody and perform; the minute I see people looking at me I forget everything I know and stand there like a dummy."
"Cheer up, child," said Migwan, "it isn't nearly as bad as you make out. Just think of the command and forget all about yourself and Miss Raper and then you'll get it right every time."
"I hope so," said Oh-Pshaw with a sigh.
"You'll have to get over it," said Agony emphatically. "If you make any mistakes on the night of the contest—!" Agony's voice hinted at the awful consequences which would follow such a misdemeanor.