It was at this moment that Herbert's first dream, or I should rather say the first phase of his treble dream, began. He dreamt that he called the company to attention, caused them to slope arms, and moved them to the right in fours.
So far so good.
Now they were in columns of fours and marching gaily.
"This is a good dream," thought Herbert. "I will get them into line. On the right, form company!" he shouted at the top of his voice.
He had done it. He had got the rear rank in front, and this is a terrible state of affairs, leading to the most frightful complications—at any rate in the Lastshire Volunteers.
"Move to the right in fours!" he commanded; and then the trouble began.
In less than half a minute, forty deserving men, including N.C.O.'s, were tied up into a series of terrifically complicated knots, in the midst of which the Company Sergeant-Major bobbed about, an angry cork on a stormy ocean of desperate men.
"Very good, Mr. Herbert, oh, very good indeed," said the Inspecting Officer.
At this point Herbert passed into his second phase and dreamed that it was all a dream.
But the question remained: what was he to do?