“Now those two’ll jaw about the Mutiny till tea-time,” said Beetle.
“Old Keyte was at Sobraon,” said Stalky. “Hear him talk about that sometimes! Beats Foxy hollow.”
The Head’s face, inscrutable as ever, was bent over a pile of letters.
“What do you think?” he said at last to the Reverend John Gillett.
“It’s a good idea. There’s no denying that—an estimable idea.”
“We concede that much. Well?”
“I have my doubts about it—that’s all. The more I know of boys the less do I profess myself capable of following their moods; but I own I shall be very much surprised if the scheme takes. It—it isn’t the temper of the school. We prepare for the Army.”
“My business—in this matter—is to carry out the wishes of the Council. They demand a volunteer cadet-corps. A volunteer cadet-corps will be furnished. I have suggested, however, that we need not embark upon the expense of uniforms till we are drilled. General Collinson is sending us fifty lethal weapons—cut-down Sniders, he calls them—all carefully plugged.”
“Yes, that is necessary in a school that uses loaded saloon-pistols to the extent we do.” The Reverend John smiled.
“Therefore there will be no outlay except the Sergeant’s time.”