Hemming stared at them, pondering.
"It will mean enemies for me," he replied.
"No, I can answer for everything but their drill," said the other.
Hemming saluted, and, wheeling the white stallion, rode alone up and down the uneven ranks. His face was set in severe lines, but behind the mask lurked mirth and derision at the pettiness of his high-styled office.
"Commander-in-chief," he said, and, putting his mount to a canter, completely circled his command in a fraction of a minute.
"I shall begin to lick them into shape to-morrow," he said to Tetson.
The little officers, clanging their big cavalry sabres, marched their little brown troops away to the barracks. The President looked wistfully after them, and said: "I can mount three hundred of them, Hemming. I call it a pretty good army, for all its lack of style."
"I call it half a battalion of duffers," said Hemming to himself.
Later, the new commander-in-chief and the private secretary sat together in the former's quarters.
"I do not quite understand this Pernamba idea," said Hemming. "Is it business, or is it just an unusual way of spending money?"