lunatic for six months, and the only one left out of a hundred men. That’s what we call Esprit-de-Corps. Do you understand what I mean now?" he asked in a quiet voice. "Ay, sergint," was the humble response from all. "Squad—Dismiss," and off they trooped to the barrack-room with the spirit of duty and honour in their souls. That’s how Sergeant Cursem drilled the Glesca Mileeshy. And that is how he earned his Victoria Cross. CHAPTER IV. DISCUSSING THE OFFICERS. "_Ginger_!" "Ay, Spud." "Whut’s a colonel?" "Oh, he’s the heid bummer o’ the Mileeshy. The man that curses everybody on parade." "Yon fat man wi’ the red nose an’ the medals?" "Ay." "Whut did he get his medals for?" "Slicing beef-steaks aff the niggers in Egypt. D’ye ken his nickname?" "Na." "It’s ’Corkleg.’ He’s only got wan leg. A nigger chowed it aff in the Soudan." "Whut dis he work at when the Mileeshy’s no ’up’?" "He shoots phaisants an’ kills rabbits." "Ay, an’ whut’s yon gless in his ee fur?" "Tae see if yer buttons are clean, an’ they’re nae fleas on yer bonnet." "An’, Ginger, wha’s yon wee man wi’ the rid hair an’ pinted neb?" "That’s the ’Dandy Major.’ He can scoff a bottle tae his brekfist. He’s awfu’ fond o’ actresses. They ca’ him ’Dandy Dick.’ He wis in the Regulars, but he got chucked oot for hittin’ the colonel on the nose." "Whut aboot?" "A wumin, of coorse,—weemin an’ wine is whut they chaps live for." "Then there’s Captain Hardup—wha’s he?" "He’s a professional Mileeshiman, wan o’ thae chaps that mak’s a leevin’ oot o’ the Mileeshy. He’s a ranker. Rankers ken owre much. There’s naethin’ like a real toff for an officer. They’ve got the bluid, an’ the men ay follow them in action. Hae ye seen oor captain yet, Spud?" "Na." "Weel, he’s the real Mackay. His auld man’s a Duke. He wears corsets, an’ pits pooder on his face, and speaks in a hawhaw wey, but he’s a guid yin. He’s ay got a hauf-quid to gie the lads a drink. D’ye ken——" "Whut?" "He knocked a man oot last camp. Dirty Bob, a daft piper, wis a bit fu’, and said he wid lay the captain oot. "’How dare you?’ ses the captain. "’Ay, I wid dare,’ says Dirty Bob. "’Take that, you beastly fellow,’ ses the captain, stretchin’ him oot like a deid yin. An’ that’s no’ the end o’t. Next mornin’ he sent for Bob. Ses he, ’There’s a half-sovereign to you—see and behave yourself in future.’ Bob’s the best sodger in the company noo. Thae toffs ken hoo tae haun’le men." "Whut wey are these officers no’ in the Regulars, Ginger?" "They’re like us—they hinna got muckle brains. The Mileeshy’s for orphans, unemployed, an’ daft folk. But it’s the back door tae the Army. If ye can get yer brains an’ chest measurement up in the Mileeshy, they’ll tak’ ye intae the Regulars." "An’ whut are the Non-Commeesioned Officers for?" inquired Spud, still anxious to learn. "Tae dae a’ the dirty work. Ye see, we’re a’ supposed to be like cuddies—broad backs an’ saft heids. The Non-Coms. are peyed tae whup us on—see?"