“Stan-a-yeh!!!”
The men “stood at ease,” and then “stood easy.”
“Now, then,” said the major, “we'll steal in on him, if we can.” They moved forward toward the little sergeant major, who remained studying the opposite horizon in calm abstraction until their toes had reached a certain line, when, like the crack of a whip, there came once more the long-drawn cry with its explosive termination:
“Ye-a-ou-w!—Yun!!!” with the result that the line was again thrown into instantaneous, breathless and motionless rigidity.
Toward the advancing officers the sergeant major threw himself into a salute with one smooth, unbroken movement of indescribable grace and finish.
“Good morning, sergeant major,” said Major Bayne. “Captain Dunbar, this is Sergeant Major Hackett.”
Again came the salute, with a barely perceptible diminution of snap, as befitted a less formal occasion.
“Sergeant major,” said Barry, “I would give a great deal to be able to do that.”
“Wot's that, sir?” enquired the sergeant major.
“That salute of yours.”