“They can command ’em on the ‘heef.’ We’ve only four company officers—Burgard, Luttrell, Kyd, and Harrison. Pigeon’s our swop, and he’s in charge of the ponies. Burgard got his company on the ‘heef.’ You see Burgard had been a lieutenant in the Line, but he came into the Guards on Trials like the men. _He_ could command. They tried him in India with a wing of the battalion for three months. He did well so he got his company. That’s what made me hopeful. But it’s a gift, you see—managing men—and so I’m only a senior private. They let ten per cent of us stay on for two years extra after our three are finished—to polish the others.” “Aren’t you even a corporal?” “We haven’t corporals, or lances for that matter, in the Guard. As a senior private I’d take twenty men into action; but one Guard don’t tell another how to clean himself. You’ve learned that before you apply. … Come in!” There was a knock at the door, and Burgard entered, removing his cap. “I thought you’d be here,” he said, as Matthews vacated the other chair and sat on the bed. “Well, has Matthews told you all about it? How did our Trials go, Matthews?” “Forty names in the Hat, Sir, at the finish. They’ll make a fairish lot. Their gun-tricks weren’t bad; but D company has taken the best horsemen—as usual.” “Oh, I’ll attend to that on ‘heef.’ Give me a man who can handle company-guns and I’ll engage to make him a horse-master. D company will end by thinkin’ ’emselves Captain Pigeon’s private cavalry some day.” I had never heard a private and a captain talking after this fashion, and my face must have betrayed my astonishment, for Burgard said: “These are not our parade manners. In our rooms, as we say in the Guard, all men are men. Outside we are officers and men.” “I begin to see,” I stammered. “Matthews was telling me that sergeants handled half-companies and rose from the ranks—and I don’t see that there are any lieutenants—and your companies appear to be two hundred and fifty strong. It’s a shade confusing to the layman.”