“I have, and a big one,” answered the young man, frowning. “Bartlett is getting too big for his boots. He has either got to get out of the company or there will be trouble.” “If the company is making money, perhaps he won’t want to get out.” “We’ll force him out. He is a bother, and in the way.” “It is not always so easy to force a man out of a thing,--especially if he knows what a good thing it is.” “I will do the trick,” said Nuggy Polk, with a wink. “Trust me to work any deal that is to my advantage.” At this moment came an order from Captain Banner for company drill, and Gilbert had to leave the pair. No sooner had he gone than Jerry Nickerson said in a low tone, “Nuggy, I wouldn’t be so free about talking over private affairs with an outsider.” “Oh, he’s only a common soldier, Jerry. What harm can it do?” “Never mind. I would be more close-mouthed if I were you.” “You get scared when there is absolutely nothing to scare you.” “I think it pays to be cautious.” “I am cautious--when there is need for it.” “No, you are not. Before you get through, you will tell everybody that you are going to do Amos Bartlett out of his shares in the Richmond Importing Company.” “Bosh!” “All right. I know you.” “See here, Jerry Nickerson, who is running this affair?” cried Nuggy Polk, angrily. “You talk as if I were a child in apron-strings.” “I am only trying to give you a bit of sound advice; but you won’t take it, and perhaps you’ll have to suffer.” “Rats!” was the sporty young man’s characteristic response, and he stalked off to watch the drill. In the confined space on the transport but little marching could be done, yet one company after another went through the manual of arms, including the acts of loading, aiming, and firing at an imaginary foe; and there were such commands as “right face,” “left wheel,” and the like, all of which interested the few spectators at hand. The regimental band on board played from time to time, to make the hours pass more pleasantly and keep the men from feeling homesick. Although Nuggy Polk did not care to admit it, Nickerson’s words made him feel somewhat anxious concerning his talks with Gilbert. In a dim way he remembered something of what he had said on the road outside of Manila, and he wondered if he had told more than was desirable. “I was a fool to get drunk,” he muttered to himself. “I’ll take good care not to get that way again.” But this mental promise amounted to nothing, for such promises had been made and broken a dozen times before. What Nuggy Polk needed was a thorough reformation, and this could not come too soon. While the company of which Gilbert was first lieutenant was drilling, Nuggy Polk drew close to a group of soldiers from another command who were watching the manœuvres, and entered into conversation with one of the number. “They seem to do first-rate,” said he. “I reckon they have a first-class captain.”