"That we ought to practise more? Sure. And we ought to have better instructors; not men who know it theoretically, but fellows that can actually show some skill. Lieutenant Merrill can't hit a barn door; saw him try. Score was rotten. Then trying to show us how! I spoke to the captain about that and he said he was going to take it up with the colonel and he will tackle the general, I suppose. Cap said many of the men were complaining and wanted to get practice."
Roy had been listening intently to this colloquy and now he stepped forward and saluted.
"Beg pardon, but do you think the very best shot in the United States of America would be in demand, then, here?"
The two soldiers laughed and one said:
"Are you the champion rifle—-?"
"Not I. But my friend here is all o' that. He can beat the chump who invented the gun. Take it from me, he can 'most knock the eye out of a mosquito at a hundred——"
"Oh, cut the comedy, old man!" Herb shouted. "They send a man to the guard-house here for less. We've got to learn more than how to shoot."
"Right; you do!" answered one of the soldiers, making a quick and evidently satisfactory appraisal of Herbert. "But we don't have a guard-house here; remember that. We go on the honor system. As soon as you fellows get assigned and get your uniforms, which'll take some little time——"
"We have a letter here for the commanding general that I'll bet he'll be dyin' to read!" declared Roy quickly.