"Oh, really! And what can you do?" replied the General sweetly.
"Load a rifle Lee-Metford," was the prompt answer.
The General smiled wintrily, and, at the conclusion of his peregrination, remarked to Colonel Dearman:—
"Well, Colonel, I can safely say that I have never inspected a corps quite like yours"—an observation capable of various interpretations—and intimated a desire to witness some company drill ere testing the abilities of the regiment in battalion drill.
"Let the rear company march out and go through some movements," said he.
"Why the devil couldn't he have chosen Ross-Ellison's company," thought Colonel Dearman, as he saluted and lifted up his voice and cried aloud:—
"Captain Rozario! March 'G' Company out for some company-drill.
Remainder—stand easy."
Captain Rozario paled beneath the bronze imparted to his well-nourished face by the suns of Portugal (or Goa), drew his sword, dropped it, picked it up, saluted with his left hand and backed into Lieutenant Xenophontis of "F" Company, who asked him vare the devil he was going to—hein?…
To the first cold stroke of fright succeeded the hot flush of rage as Captain Rozario saw the absurdity of ordering him to march his company out for company drill. How in the name of all the Holy Saints could he march his company out with six companies planted in front of him? Let them be cleared away first. To his men he ejaculated:—
"Compannee——!" and they accepted the remark in silence.