"One hundred and twenty-five paces backward march," cried Captain Rozario after a brief calculation, and "G" Company reluctantly detached itself from the battalion, backwards.
"Turn round this away and face to me," continued the gallant Captain, "and then on the left form good companee."
The oblate spheroid assumed an archipelagic formation, melting into irregularly-placed military islands upon a sea of dust.
"Oll get together and left dress, please," besought Captain Rozario, and many of the little islands amalgamated with that on their extreme right while the remainder gravitated to their left—the result being two continents of unequal dimensions.
As Captain Rozario besought these disunited masses to conjoin, the voice of the General was heard in the land—
"Kindly order that mob to disperse before it is fired on, will you,
Colonel? They can go home and stay there," said he.
Captain Rozario was a man of sensibility and he openly wept.
No one could call this a good beginning—nor could they have called the ensuing battalion-drill a good ending.
"Put the remainder of the battalion through some simple movements if they know any," requested the General.
Determined to retrieve the day yet, Colonel Dearman saluted, cleared his throat terrifically and shouted: '"Tallish, 'shun!" with such force that a nervous man in the front rank of "A" Company dropped his rifle and several "presented" arms.