'Under battle conditions, sir.'
'Do you suppose that the company stretched over a space of two hundred yards, while the barrage fire was going on, could hear such caterwauling as you’ve been attempting? What should you do?'
'Use whistle and signal, sir.'
'Have I not directed you to do so heretofore?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Either malicious or wooden—take your choice! Proceed with your drill.'
Cut to the quick, Ruggs thought hard what to do in his predicament. The studious, sleepless night was beginning to tell on him, but he called to his memory the signal for 'Assemble' and blew a stout blast on his whistle. He felt the Meter behind his back making damaging notes in the book, and the glances of his fellows before him betraying pity and superiority. The number of errors increased with the length of the drill. Each time the Meter summoned him, the criticisms were more caustic. At last he waved his arms in unknown combinations and directions. But whenever the Meter stopped him, he was able, with much teeth-gritting that made his jaw muscles swell his cheeks, to set the movement straight without excitement.
In the afternoon, during a march along the road, the Meter directed the company to be halted and its commander to report to him.
'Mr. Ruggs, you see that little bluff about four hundred yards to the left of this road?'
'Yes, sir.'