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They took counsel together, sitting in a tree and smoking.

“It’s more than a bloomin’ toss-up they’ll leave us be’ind at the Depot with the women. You’ll like that,” said Jakin sarcastically.

“Cause o’ Cris, y’ mean? Wot’s a woman, or a ‘ole bloomin’ depot o’ women, ‘longside o’ the chanst of field-service? You know I’m as keen on goin’ as you,” said Lew.

“Wish I was a bloomin’ bugler,” said Jakin sadly. “They’ll take Tom Kidd along, that I can plaster a wall with, an’ like as not they won’t take us.”

“Then let’s go an’ make Tom Kidd so bloomin’ sick ‘e can’t bugle no more. You ‘old ‘is ‘ands an’ I’ll kick him,” said Lew, wriggling on the branch.

“That ain’t no good neither. We ain’t the sort o’ characters to presoom on our rep’tations – they’re bad. If they have the Band at the Depot we don’t go, and no error there. If they take the Band we may get cast for medical unfitness. Are you medical fit, Piggy?” said Jakin, digging Lew in the ribs with force.

“Yus,” said Lew with an oath. “The Doctor says your ‘eart’s weak through smokin’ on an empty stummick. Throw a chest an’ I’ll try yer.”

Jakin threw out his chest, which Lew smote with all his might. Jakin turned very pale, gasped, crowed, screwed up his eyes, and said – “That’s all right.”

“You’ll do,” said Lew. “I’ve ‘eard o’ men dying when you ‘it ’em fair on the breastbone.”

“Don’t bring us no nearer goin’, though,” said Jakin. “Do you know where we’re ordered?”

“Gawd knows, an’ ‘E won’t split on a pal. Somewheres up to the Front to kill Paythans – hairy big beggars that turn you inside out if they get ‘old o’ you. They say their women are good- looking, too.”

“Any loot?” asked the abandoned Jakin.

“Not a bloomin’ anna, they say, unless you dig up the ground an’ see what the niggers ‘ave ‘id. They’re a poor lot.” Jakin stood upright on the branch and gazed across the plain.

“Lew,” said he, “there’s the Colonel coming. ‘Colonel’s a good old beggar. Let’s go an’ talk to ‘im.”

Lew nearly fell out of the tree at the audacity of the suggestion. Like Jakin he feared not God, neither regarded he Man, but there are limits even to the audacity of a drummer-boy, and to speak to a Colonel was –

But Jakin had slid down the trunk and doubled in the direction of the Colonel. That officer was walking wrapped in thought and visions of a C. B. yes, even a K. C. B., for had he not at command one of the best Regiments of the Line – the Fore and Fit? And he was aware of two small boys charging down upon him. Once before it had been solemnly reported to him that “the Drums were in a state of mutiny,” Jakin and Lew being the ringleaders. This looked like an organised conspiracy. – The boys halted at twenty yards, walked to the regulation four paces, and saluted together, each as well set-up as a ramrod and little taller.

The Colonel was in a genial mood; the boys appeared very forlorn and unprotected on the desolate plain, and one of them was handsome.

“Well!” said the Colonel, recognising them. “Are you going to pull me down in the open? I’m sure I never interfere with you, even though” – he sniffed suspiciously – “you have been smoking.”

It was time to strike while the iron was hot. Their hearts beat tumultuously.

“Beg y’ pardon, Sir,” began Jakin. “The Reg’ment’s ordered on active service, Sir?”

“So I believe,” said the Colonel courteously.

“Is the Band goin’, Sir?” said both together. Then, without pause, “We’re goin’, Sir, ain’t we?”

“You!” said the Colonel, stepping back the more fully to take in the two small figures. “You! You’d die in the first march.”

“No, we wouldn’t, Sir. We can march with the Reg’ment anywheres – p’rade an’ anywhere else,” said Jakin.