Wyatt performed his task thoroughly,

“You shall see the guns first,” he said: and he marched his new brother-officer across to the gun-shed, where a smart, six-foot gunner in undress uniform drew himself up to salute as they passed to where the light six-pounders stood in an exact line, with their limbers and ammunition-boxes, rammers, sponges, and trails—the very perfection of neatness, and everything that would bear a polish shining like a gem.

On the walls were rockets in racks, and stands for their discharge were close at hand; while spare wheels and tackle of every kind possible to be wanted, and beautifully clean, took Dick’s attention, showing, as they did, the perfect management over all.

“Now for the stables,” said Wyatt. “Better be on your guard, for some of the horses are rather playful with their heels.”

Dick nodded, and followed his conductor into the plainest and cleanest stable he had ever seen. Here they came upon several syces or grooms, whose task it was to give the horses’ coats the satin-like gloss they displayed; for the drivers and gunners of the Honourable Company’s corps were far too great men to run down their own horses, or do much more than superintend the cleaning of their own accoutrements.

“It’s different to being at home,” said Wyatt laughingly; “and we want the men to fight, not for grooms and servants. They’re a bit spoiled, but the niggers are plentiful, and we let them do the work.”

Dick had seen the stables at a cavalry barracks once, and admired the horses; but these were nothing to the beautiful, sleek creatures he saw here. Wild-looking, large-eyed, abundant of mane and tail, perfect beauties without exception, but certainly playful as the lieutenant had said, the entrance of the visitors seeming to be the signal for the long line to begin tossing their heads, rattling their halters, and turning their beautiful arched necks to gaze at the new-comers before snorting, squealing, and making ineffectual attempts to bite at their fellows—ineffectual, for they could not reach them.

“What do you think of them?” said Wyatt, smiling at his companion’s display of excited appreciation. “Will they do?”

“Do!” cried Dick enthusiastically; “why, there isn’t one that would not make a magnificent charger.”

“Bating temper, you’re quite right. Arab stallions, every one. But you’ve seen them before.”

“Only once, at a distance, and then they were going fast.”

“Yes, we do go pretty fast,” said Wyatt quietly; “the men on the limbers have to sit pretty tight in their leather slings. Seen enough?”

“No,” cried Dick; “one could never see enough of such horses as these.”

“That’s right, young one,” said Wyatt approvingly. “Well, you’ll see enough of them now. We’ll walk down to the other end, and go out of the other door.”

Dick followed his companion unwillingly, for the desire was on him to go and pat and handle several of the beautiful creatures.

“No, no,” said Wyatt, stopping him; “it’s rather too risky; some of them are likely to be nasty with strangers. You see, so long as a horse is a good one we don’t study much about his character.”

“Nor yet about the characters of the men,” said Dick dryly.

“That’s so. We want men—perfect men—sound in wind and limb; and as to the men’s characters, well, they’re obliged to behave well. They know that, and they do. Come and see them.”

This was the most crucial part of the business to Dick. The horses, as they turned their beautiful eyes upon him and shook their manes, seemed one and all to be gazing at him with a kind of sovereign contempt. But then they were horses—dumb animals, and did not matter; but the men—what would they think?

He felt younger, slighter, and more boyish than ever as he crossed the parade-ground towards the barracks, and involuntarily drew himself up, frowned, and strode more heavily, unconscious of the fact that his conductor was looking slyly down at him from the corner of his left eye, enjoying the boy’s effort to look more manly. Then his face turned grave, and he laid his hand upon the lad’s arm.

“Don’t do that, Dick,” he said.

“Don’t do what?” cried the boy flushing guiltily.

“Don’t be a sham. It will make a bad impression on the men.”

Dick stopped short, and looked half angrily at his brother-officer.

“I’m speaking seriously, lad,” said Wyatt, “to my brother-officer. You see, Dick, you are only a boy yet, and there’s nothing to be ashamed of in that. Be proud of being a boy till nature turns you into a man, and then be a man.”

“I don’t quite understand you, sir,” said Dick.

“Yes, you do; and now you’re being a sham with me while I’m trying to keep you from being a sham with the men, who would see it directly, and laugh at it as soon as our backs are turned. I say, young un, don’t you know that a good boy is far better than a bad man?”

“A good boy!” said Dick, with his lip curling. “You speak to me as if I were a child. You’ll be calling me a naughty boy next.”

“What a young fire-eater you are!” said Wyatt good-humouredly. “I didn’t mean a good boy, the opposite of a naughty boy. You know well enough what I mean—a boy who is a boy, a frank brick of a boy who acts up to what he really is—not one of your affected imitation men, young apes, puppies who are ashamed of being boys—young idiots. Look here, young un; I took to you last night because you were frank and straightforward, and behaved as if you knew that you were only a boy.”

“Well, I do know it, of course; but I don’t want people to be always throwing it in my teeth.”

“Nobody will, my lad, unless you make them. It’s in your own hands. Whenever a lad gets that it’s because he has been making a monkey of himself by trying to imitate what he is not.”

“Well, but I was not just now.”

“What!” cried Wyatt.

“Well, I suppose I was—a little,” said Dick, turning more red in the face.

“A little? Awfully, old fellow. Drop it. I wouldn’t have taken you through the men’s quarters like that for your own sake. Believe me, my lad, when I tell you that I’m going to take you through our troop of picked men—men we’re all proud of. They’re keen, clever fellows, who can read one like a book. You’ll have to help lead them some day, and you’ve got to win their respect by your manliness and pluck. Then they’ll follow you anywhere.”

“Manliness!” cried Dick reproachfully; “and you ridicule me for trying to be so.”

“For shamming it, my lad. A boy can be naturally manly without acting.”

“All right; I’ll try—to be a boy,” said Dick, rather glumly.

“There, now, you’re facing about in the wrong direction, my lad. Don’t try—don’t act. Be a natural British lad. Look honestly, enviously if you like, at the men. You are a boy yet, nothing but a boy—one of the youngest officers we’ve had; and if you’re frank and natural with it, and the men see that you’ve got the pluck to learn our ways, with plenty of go, they’ll make it ten times as easy for you as it would be, and make a regular pet of you.”

“But I don’t want to be the men’s pet,” said Dick sharply.

“Of course not. I only mean they’ll be proud of you, and like you for being young. They’ll put will into everything they do when you give your orders; and when,” said Wyatt, with a grim laugh—“when you’re beginning, and hot and excited, and give the wrong orders and would wheel the troop in the wrong direction, they’ll go right.”

“Thank you, Mr Wyatt,” said Dick quietly.

The lieutenant looked at him sharply.

“I was going to say, ‘Mean it?’” he said, “but I see you do. Why, Dick, lad, I often wish I was a boy again, as often perhaps as I used to wish that I was a man, and longed for a moustache.”

He gave Dick a comical look and laughed.

“It’s all right,” he said; “it’s coming up, and I don’t say it will beat mine some day, for I’ve got about the biggest in the artillery, and a great nuisance it is when I’m eating soup.—Ah, here’s some one for you to know.”

For a fine, stalwart-looking, slightly-grizzled, deeply-bronzed man in the undress uniform of a sergeant-major suddenly came out from a doorway, and saluted both as he drew himself up like a statue.

“Ah, Sergeant,” said Wyatt, stopping short. “This is my friend, Mr Darrell, our new subaltern.”

“Glad to meet you, sir,” said the old non-commissioned officer stiffly.

“I’m taking him round. We’re just going to look at the men.”

“Yes, sir. Like me to show you round?”

“Yes, you may as well. By the way, Mr Darrell is very anxious to get into our ways as soon as he can. You’ll help him all you can?”

“Yes, sir,” said the sergeant grimly, and Dick found it hard work to look natural; “but I’m afraid he’ll find us a little rougher than they are in the foot.”

“Oh, he won’t mind that.—Will you, Darrell?”

“Well, I don’t know,” said Dick in a frank, outspoken way, giving the sergeant a good, earnest, straightforward look as he spoke. “I expect I shall find it very rough, and mind it a good deal at first; but I suppose I shall soon get used to it if I try.”

The sergeant’s grim visage relaxed as Dick spoke.

“I think you’ll do, sir,” he said. “That’s half the fight—try.”

“Do? Oh, yes, he’ll do. Captain Hulton says you are to take him in hand.”

“Proud to do my best, sir,” said the sergeant bluffly. “Mr Darrell knows, of course, that he has a deal more to learn here than he had in the foot brigade, for we have to be wonderfully smart.”

“Oh, yes, he knows all that, Stubbs.”

“Then it sha’n’t be my fault, sir, if I don’t make you as smart an officer as Mr Wyatt here, if he’ll pardon me for saying so.”

“That’s right, Sergeant.—He broke me in, Darrell, and you’ll find him a splendid teacher. Ah, here we are! Now you’re going to see some of the sergeant’s pupils.”

Dick walked with his companion into the barrack-room, where some forty or fifty men were lounging about in the easiest of costumes—nÉgligÉ would be too smart a term for it; but all started to their feet as the officers entered, and looked sharply and searchingly at the new subaltern. But, as it happened, the lad did not feel the slightest nervous shrinking; for, as he went through the barrack-room, followed by the sergeant, the deep feeling of interest he felt in the aspect of the place, with the men’s trappings and weapons in place and in the most perfect order, the neatness of all but the men’s costume—and, above all, the aspect of the fine body of picked soldiers whom he was some day to lead—thrilled the young officer with a feeling of pride, and gave such a look of animation to his countenance that unwittingly he made as good an impression as the most exacting of friends could have wished.

The ordeal was soon passed; for, as Wyatt said, “One doesn’t like to be interfering with the men in their easy times. But what do you think of our lads, Darrell?”

“Splendid!” cried the boy enthusiastically. “You’re right; they are picked men.”

“Yes, they are,” said Wyatt.—“Eh, Sergeant?”

“Yes, sir. I often wish we could ride into Hyde Park with them on a review day. I think we could make the Londoners give us a cheer. Beg pardon, sir, but some of ’em seemed to like the look of Mr Darrell here.”

“Think so?”

“Yes, sir; set some of ’em thinking, as it did me!”

“Set you thinking?” said Wyatt.

“Yes, sir; about when we were young as he is, sir. Hah! it’s a good many years since, though.—When will you be ready to begin, sir?” he added quickly, for he detected a look of annoyance at the turn the conversation was taking.

“To-morrow morning?” said Dick sharply. “Will that do?”

“Yes, sir; the sooner the better. Riding-school half-an-hour after reveille, please. Like to see the riding-school, sir?”

“No, no!” cried Wyatt; “he’ll see enough of that for many days to come. We’ve done enough for to-day.”

The sergeant saluted, and the two officers marched away in silence for a few moments before Wyatt said sharply:

“Capital, Dick. Couldn’t have been better. You were just the natural lad who was taking an eager interest in the men and their place. They saw it, and the sergeant was correct. All right, my lad; I’m glad you’ve joined us. You’ll do.”

“Think so?” said Dick, blushing.

“Yes; and so will Hulton when he knows you better.”

“Then he didn’t think so at first?” said Dick sharply.

“No; he was a bit savage about the authorities appointing such a boy.”

Dick winced.

“But he knew nothing about what sort of stuff you were made of.”

“Bah! don’t flatter,” said Dick angrily.

“Not going to. Sooner knock your head off. But look here, my lad; you have your work cut out, and we’re going to show Hulton that he has got the right lad to grow up into our ways and fill poor Morrison’s place.”

“We are going?” said Dick wonderingly.

“Of course; I’m going to help.”