They made him a speech, they smacked each other on the back, they went into fits simply at the sight of him clicking his tongue or rolling his eyes. I suddenly caught sight of someone coming towards me ... the brick red cheeks, the flat nose, the crisp hair, and full lips exposing the receding gums ... all these were familiar to me. The man was wearing a dirty grey suit. He held out his hairy paw to me. "Halloa, my 'rooky'!" The sound of his voice enabled me to place him. "Bouillon!" Eight years before, when I first joined, I had found him rejoicing in good conduct and efficiency badges, and acting as barrack-room orderly. The excellent fellow had at once taken me under his protection, and had seen me through the first three weeks, teaching me the rudiments of manual and platoon exercises. He was not a little proud of it. I was "his rooky." A little later on Bouillon had got into trouble. He had been led away by Lamalou, and mixed up in some night brawl, and had lost his stripes in consequence. When I rejoined the company I had been able, without causing him any humiliation to get him attached to me as bâtman and we had both congratulated ourselves on our understanding, he because I occasionally gave him a tip to supplement his weekly three francs, I because my kit was so well cared for, from that day onwards. I had not seen him since. The joy of having found me again lit up his face. He said insinuatingly: "If only you could get me into your section?" I promised to try and arrange the matter for him shortly. "That chap seems very much attached to you," said Guillaumin. "Pooh! He hopes to get some money out of me!" A quartermaster-sergeant who had re-enlisted accosted us: "I say, you're the N.C.O.'s of the 22nd, aren't you? Come and get changed: Then you can lend a hand ... with the men!" We followed him to the clothing-store which had been installed in a yard. An officer was there, a sub-lieutenant in the reserves, a young fellow with a fine head, and a long brown moustache, which he twirled mechanically. We reported ourselves to him. He timidly asked each one of us what our profession was. "That's right!" he said approvingly; "quite right. Yes!" There was a superb lot of regulation trousers, tunics, and greatcoats. Guillaumin marvelled at them. "Some preparation--what!--in spite of all they say!" We soon found what we wanted, all that is, except him, whose arms were so long as to be out of all proportion. We laughed at his build, resembling that of a monkey. "First-rate for bayonet work!" he retorted. We were ready. The quartermaster brought us a dozen men. "The first batch!"