"How, sir?" said the A.A.G. "Make them charge mountains with fixed bayonets for a month." "But there’s no mountains nearer than fifteen miles, sir." "March them out to them—good for them!" "They’ll probably kick, sir." "Then we’ll have them shot." And so the Mixed Division tramped, manœuvred, and charged. It lowered each man’s weight, and made him wring his shirt after the day’s darg was done. The older soldiers cursed and growled; the younger men whined and often fell out. "Too stiff, eh?" inquired "Sunny Jim" one day of a perspiring Tommy. "A wee bit, sir," said the man with a wan smile. "It’s example these men want. I’ll show them. Here, you," he shouted to a young subaltern in charge of an infant company. "Yes, sir." "Hand over your company to me." "Very good, sir." The company was awed. They had only heard of "Sunny Jim." Now, there he stood in his gold-braided cap and ribboned chest—a perfect type of soldier. "’Shun," he roared. They shivered, for the voice told them that Jim was very much alive. "Advance." They trekked behind him over the manœuvring area. The whole regiment stopped to look on. "Extend," was his next command. They went out in a sleepy way. "Come back! Come back!" he roared. They doubled back half startled. "Now, look here, you young rascals, I’m fifty, and about fifteen stone. I’ve been through five wars and fifteen battles. I’ve been wounded twice and half starved in all my Army life, but if I couldn’t double better than that I would desert and go home." Then in his thundering voice he bellowed, "Extend," once more. Out they ran like whippets. "That’s the way, my lads, and that’s the way you’ll run when the bullets are cracking round your ears. Now, advance." Off they went again. "Down—at the enemy in front—at five hundred—fire." They flopped down in an awkward manner. "Well! Well!" muttered the general. "Get up! Get up!" All rose in a shamefaced way. "Now, watch me," and off he went at the double; next he flopped on to the muddy ground. It was mighty quick, but then "Sunny Jim" had done this many times to save his skin. All the while the men marvelled at this wonderful general doing such things when he might have ridden his horse and cursed them in the orthodox way. But they gladly followed his lead; ran, lay down, and opened fire. "Rapid fire," he yelled above the din. The reply was a feeble thing to a trained ear. "Oh dear! Oh dear! What the ...? ...." he roared, using the most choice and original adjectives. "It’s fifteen rounds a minute I want, and fifteen rounds I’m going to have. Give me your rifle," he yelled to a shivering youth. Lying down, he quickly opened fire, while an aide-de-camp timed his shooting with a watch. "How many?" he inquired when closing his bolt after firing the last round. "Just fifteen, sir, to the minute." "There! And these young scamps take about half an hour. Now, my lads, ready once more." "Rapid fire!" The response was good, almost perfect.