“Have you had any military training?”
“I am sorry, none; but I can ride and shoot.” And I added, “I hope this won’t stand in my way. I am very anxious to get in.”
The Colonel drummed his fingers on the table a moment or two, and all the while looked at me. In the end he spoke gravely.
“You know, Lake, a soldier’s life is a hard life, a very hard life—bad food, the ground for a bed, exposure to all weathers, work all hours. The officer is no better off than the man.”
“I have not rushed into it,” I said. “I have thought it over and hope you will take me.” To this he answered nothing. “I have some horses,” I went on, “which would suit a gun team. I shall be glad to give them if they are of any use.”
He misunderstood me. “Oh,” he said, “we have enough now. In any case the Government does not give a high price. What do you want for them?”
“I don’t want to sell,” I said. “I make an offer of them. They are plough horses, and, should I go away, I shall not plough this year. I am glad to offer them.”
“Lake, I don’t think there is any need for that. As long as a man gives his own services, it is all that can be expected. Keep your horses. If you join, when can you come into camp?”
“I can come now; but I should like first to go back to Gippsland. I have a place there.”
“That can be arranged.” He turned to the lieutenant who first had spoken to me. “Sands, take Lake to the doctor and afterwards swear him in.”