"We are discovered," came back the answer, and there was a burst of laughter from the crowd, for the fraud practised upon the boys had been an open secret to them all.
"Take your mustache off, Mackintosh, it dazzles my eyes," cried some one. And the boys looked up at the big hussar, who was grinning sheepishly under his disguise.
"What Dummkophs we were!" they exclaimed. "Why, their uniforms don't fit for a cent!"
At this the bogus officers shouted.
"Mine's horribly tight," said one. "I can't breathe."
"I can't bend in mine," groaned Thomas, the English chaplain's son; "it's got a ramrod up the back."
"My stiffest chokers are cotton wool compared to these impossible boards," said little Smith, wriggling his neck round inside the beautiful gold collar.
"Is there one real officer on the team?" demanded the little corporals, who were sternly superintending the unmasking of the impostors.
"No," answered Mackintosh, cheerfully. "We are all echt English subjects—for I'm a Canadian."
The two Lieutenants who had "crawled" so ignominiously came forward with Miss Hartley to make their peace.