A second month had seemed to fly since Dick had joined his troop. There was so much to do. At the end of the first month he was in the thick of all the drill-practice, and playing his part well, for he picked up the cavalry evolutions and gun-practice with ease, winning plenty of praise from his brother-officers, while the men were delighted with the young subaltern, and had a bright look for him whenever he rode up to his place.

It was hard work, too—wild galloping over rough ground, with the guns and limbers behind their teams, bumping and leaping as the troop tore along, with the horses literally racing to some point of vantage. Then the bugle would ring out, the horses would stop pretty well all together, the men leap from the saddles, and the gunners dismount from their horses, which were held by their companions; then with amazing celerity the gun-trails would be unhooked, swung round in this direction or in that, to go into action, loaded and fired—with blank-cartridge, of course. Then the trumpet sounded, the trails were hooked on again, the men leaped back to their places, the trumpet rang out once more, and away they went, raising a cloud of dust as they dashed along, the wonder to Dick being that so few accidents occurred, for the officers, as a rule, made a point in practice of riding for the roughest ground.

“Nothing like it, Dicky,” said Wyatt one day when, after a long series of dashes here and there, a halt was called, and the men sat at ease wiping their streaming faces. “We’ve got to be prepared for everything and to go anywhere.”

“That we can,” said Dick, who had been wildly excited by the gallop.

“That we can!” said Wyatt, his face assuming an air of disgust. “There’s a pretty sort of a fellow! Our troop would go anywhere.”

“That it could,” said Dick shortly.

“Well!” ejaculated Wyatt—and again, “Well! this is a smack in the face. I shall have to tell Hulton. Here have I been priding myself on our having broken you in to our ways, and made a gunner of you that we could be proud of, and you talk like that.”

“I don’t see anything wrong in what I said,” said Dick wonderingly.

“Don’t you? Then I do. It’s very evident that you have not half learned your duty yet. Look here, my lad. We are emergency men, expected to go wherever our general orders, and we do it.”

Dick laughed.

“Worse and worse! Here, I give you up, Dick.”

“Nonsense! Suppose, the enemy was on the other side of a deep river. We couldn’t get through that.”

“We should, somehow.”

“But we couldn’t. The guns would sink, and the cartridges be spoiled.”

“Like your new uniform.”

“Shouldn’t be wearing it to fight in,” said Dick.

“But look here; we should make for the nearest bridge or ford.”

“Suppose there was none,” said Dick.

“Bah! I shan’t suppose anything. I tell you we should go anywhere. I’m not going to chop logic with you—you argumentative little beggar.”

“Then, again, we couldn’t charge a fort or stone walls.”

“No, but we’d close up and batter them down. Look here, young fellow; you’re one of us now, and what you’ve got to believe is that our troop of horse artillery can do anything, and do it.”

“Oh, all right,” said Dick merrily: “I’ll try. I suppose we’ve done for to-day. I’m hot and tired.”

“Rubbish!” cried Wyatt. “We’re never hot and tired. Always ready’s our motto. Talk like that after a field-day! What would you do if we went into action?”

“I don’t know; get so excited, I suppose, that I shouldn’t have time to think.”

“Of course you would. And now, look here; I’ll tell you something if you promise not to chatter about it.”

“I don’t chatter; but I’ll promise. What is it?”

“There’s something on the way.”

“Is there? What—war?”

“Oh, we don’t call our little fights wars, and I can’t tell you what is coming off, but Sir George dropped a hint to Hulton that he was to see that we were in perfect readiness.”

“Well, we always are.”

“Yes; but to be on the qui vive as to ammunition, tents, baggage, and provender.”

“Oh!” ejaculated Dick, and his eyes kindled as he sat there upon a knoll with his troop, gazing round at the two or three native regiments, a squadron of cavalry, and the foot artillery and their heavy guns, which had taken part in the field-day.

“It may be only a false alarm,” said Wyatt, “but I thought you’d like to know; only you mustn’t begin to howl about feeling hot and tired if we have any real work to do, nor yet think about running away.”

Dick bit his lip, and then said huskily, “Am I likely to feel disposed to run away?”

“Perhaps so, the first time.”

“Did you?”

“What?” cried Wyatt fiercely, as he turned upon the calm, imperturbable face looking in his. “Did you mean that as an insult, Mr Darrell?”

“No,” said Dick, his eyes twinkling with mischievous exultation. “Did you?”

“Got me!” said Wyatt, shaking his head and chuckling softly. “Hist! look out. Here comes the general.”

Captain Hulton gave the word, and in an instant the men were rigid in their saddles, with the line as regular as if they were on parade, for a little knot of horsemen came cantering up, the general and his staff a short distance behind.

He drew rein in front of the troop, and sat talking to the captain for a minute, and then walked his horse slowly along the line, keenly examining everything.

At the end of the line he turned and rode back, and this time Dick, who had often felt annoyed at the want of recognition on the part of his father’s old school-fellow and friend, flushed with pleasure, for Sir George checked his horse.

“Ah, Mr Darrell,” he said quietly, “you there! Getting used to the rough work?”

“Yes, Sir George.”

“That’s right. You seem to have a good mount.—How do, Mr Wyatt?”

He backed his horse a few yards, stopped, and raised his voice so that the whole troop could hear:

“Very good indeed, my lads. Capital.”

Then he turned his horse and rode away, followed by his staff.

“He didn’t say much,” said Dick in a low tone.

“Soldiers never do say much,” replied Wyatt; “but I never heard him say so much before. My word! Old Hulton will be pleased.”

“I say, though: do you really think there is something on the way?”

“Yes. Are you sorry?”

“Sorry? No. I shall be delighted. It will be such a change.”

“Yes,” said Wyatt dryly, “it will be a change; so make the most of your comfortable quarters while you can. Next week you may be sleeping on a heap of stones after a supper of nothing to eat and a pannikin of dirty water.”