"Don't matter to me where it is, sir!" exclaimed Tony bluntly; "if it's war we'll fight and lick the beggars, see if we don't; and if it comes to invasion, or whatever yer calls it, well, all the better, I say. 'Tain't nearly such good fun sticking behind stone walls and keeping fellers out as it is rushing forts and such like things, and turning the garrison out with the end of a bay'net. That's the boy for 'em. Give me and all my mates a good half-yard of steel at the end of our guns, and see if we don't make it warm for the Russians. We'll do as well as the Froggies at any rate." "That you will, I am sure," laughed Mr Shelton, patting him on the back. "Fancy how strange it is that we who have always been fighting with France, who is, as I might say, our natural enemy, should now be side by side with her, and in all probability will soon be fighting for the same object. It will lead to tremendous scenes of emulation, for no British soldier will care to allow a Frenchman to beat him at anything." "I should think not, indeed," Phil snorted. "There was a chap at the school I first went to who was a regular Froggy. His people had come to England to save him from conscription; it would have been the making of him, for he was a regular donkey, conceited and all that; curled his hair and put scent on his handkerchief. Pah! How we disliked that fellow!" "It sounds as though you had had something to do with him," said Mr Shelton, with a quizzical smile, "for we were saying that no Englishman would suffer a Frenchman to beat him." "Oh--er, yes, there was something like that!" Phil replied, with reddened cheeks. "You see the beggar got so uppish and disagreeable there was no doing anything with him; then, when I called him Froggy, in pure jest, he threw a stump at me, and caught me a crack on the head. I didn't like that, and--er--" "Yes, you did what?" asked Mr Shelton, with the same quizzical smile. "I licked him till he blubbered," Phil blurted out shamefacedly, conscious that he had been dragged into saying more than he had at first intended. "Ha, ha, ha! you licked him till he blubbered," roared the old gentleman, losing in a moment his appearance of gravity, and beaming all over his face. "You licked him, and a very proper thing too, my friend! But you must not be trying such games now. It would mean a court-martial, or even something more serious. But I must be going now. Bear in mind what I have told you, and be sure of this--war--red war-- is at hand. Now good-bye and good luck!--you are just the class of lads that England will want." "Thank you, sir! Good-bye!" cried Phil and Tony, saluting the old gentleman. Then, tucking their canes under their arms, they strode out of the building and away to the barracks, discussing as they went the possibility of war, and the share they were likely to take in it.