"What—you—— How dare——"
"Aisy, sargint, or, be jabers, you'll burst."
"Sergeant Maloney, march him to the clink. Skilly and cells will teach him."
"Thank yis, sargint—I'll get a sleep in the clink," chirped O'Riley as he was marched away.
"Double march," roared Dick to the remainder again. When he had almost pumped the last breath out of their bodies he gave the halt, then—"Stand at ease."
"Wipe your sweat off, and then we'll try the slope again." Gladly they mopped their brows. When finished, the old sergeant ordered, "Slope—arms." Every rifle went bang on to the shoulder with a precision that was truly amazing.
[pg 147] "That's the way. You can do it when you like. Now, Present—arms." This had its faults.
"Keep your stomachs in—it's corsets you want. And grip your guns. They ain't dynamite. Just think it's a beer pot. No laughing, Muldoon, or I'll clap you in with O'Riley."
"I couldn't help——"
"Silence! Who ever heard of talking in the ranks? Company—Slope—arms. By the right—Quick march."