Lieutenant Toddywallah tugged valiantly at his sword for a space, but finding that weapon coy and unwilling to leave its sheath, he raised his helmet gracefully and respectfully to the General. His manner was always polished. "What the devil are they doing?" inquired the General. "B," "C," "D," "E," "F," and "G" Companies breathed hard and protruded their stomachs, while Sergeant-Instructor Progg deserved well of Captain Schloggenboschenheimer by sharply tugging his tunic-tail as he was in the act of roaring:-- "_Gomm_--!" the first syllable of the word "Company," with a view to bestowing a royal salute likewise. Instead, the Captain extended the hand of friendship to the General as he approached. The look of _nil admirari_ boredom slowly faded from the face of the smart and dapper Brigade-Major, and for a while it displayed quite human emotions. Up and down and between the ranks strode the trio, the General making instructive and interesting comments from time to time, such as:-- "Are your buttons of metal or bone, my man? Polish them and find out." "What did you cook in that helmet?" "Take your belt in seven holes, and put it where your waist was." "Are _you_ fourteen years old yet?" "Personally I don't care to see brown boots, patent shoes nor carpet slippers with uniform." "And when were you ninety, my poor fellow?" "Get your belly out of my way." "Put this unclean person under arrest or under a pump, please, Colonel." "Can you load a rifle unaided?" and so forth. The last-mentioned query "Can you load a rifle unaided?" addressed to a weedy youth of seventeen who stood like a living mark-of-interrogation, elicited the reply:-- "Nossir". "Oh, really! And what _can_ you do?" replied the General sweetly. "Load a rifle Lee-Metford," was the prompt answer. The General smiled wintrily, and, at the conclusion of his peregrination, remarked to Colonel Dearman:-- "Well, Colonel, I can safely say that I have never inspected a corps quite like yours"--an observation capable of various interpretations--and intimated a desire to witness some company drill ere testing the abilities of the regiment in battalion drill. "Let the rear company march out and go through some movements," said he. "Why the devil couldn't he have chosen Ross-Ellison's company," thought Colonel Dearman, as he saluted and lifted up his voice and cried aloud:-- "Captain Rozario! March 'G' Company out for some company-drill. Remainder--stand _easy_." Captain Rozario paled beneath the bronze imparted to his well-nourished face by the suns of Portugal (or Goa), drew his sword, dropped it, picked it up, saluted with his left hand and backed into Lieutenant Xenophontis of "F" Company, who asked him vare the devil he was going to--hein?...