`Didn't the old boy know we were defaulters?' said Beetle.

`Not him. He came down to lunch with the Head. I found him pokin' about the place on his own hook afterwards, an' I thought I'd show him the giddy drill. When I found he was so pleased, I wasn't goin' to damp his giddy ardour. He mightn't ha' given me the quid if I had.'

`Wasn't old Foxy pleased? Did you see him get pink behind the ears?' said Beetle. `It was an awful score for him. Didn't we back him up beautifully? Let's go down to Keyte's and get some cocoa and sassingers.'

They overtook Foxy, speeding down to retail the adventure to Keyte, who in his time had been Troop Sergeant-Major in a cavalry regiment, and now, a war-worn veteran, was local postmaster and confectioner.

`You owe us something,' said Stalky, with meaning.

`I'm 'ighly grateful, Muster Corkran. I've 'ad to run against you pretty hard in the way o' business, now and then, but I will say that outside o' business -- bounds an' smokin', an' such like -- I don't wish to have a more trustworthy young gentleman to 'elp me out of a hole. The way you 'andled the drill was beautiful, though I say it. Now, if you come regular henceforward --'

`But he'll have to be late three times a week,' said Beetle. `You can't expect a chap to do that -- just to please you, Foxy.'

`Ah, that's true. Still, if you could manage it -- and you, Muster Beetle -- it would give you a big start when the cadet-corps is formed. I expect the General will recommend it.'

They raided Keyte's very much at their own sweet will, for the old man, who knew them well, was deep in talk with Foxy.

`I make what we've taken seven and six,' Stalky called at last over the counter; `but you'd better count for yourself.'

`No -- no. I'd take your word any day, Muster Corkran. -- In the Pompadours, was he, Sergeant? We lay with them once -- at Umballa, I think it was.'

`I don't know whether this ham-and-tongue tin is eighteen pence or one an' four.'

`Say one an' fourpence, Muster Corkran. . . . Of course, Sergeant, if it was any use to give my time, I'd be pleased to do it, but I'm too old. I'd like to see a drill again.'

`Oh, come on, Stalky,' cried M`Turk. `He isn't listenin' to you. Chuck over the money.'

`I want the quid changed, you ass. Keyte! Private Keyte! Corporal Keyte! Terroop-Sergeant-Major Keyte, will you give me change for a quid?'

`Yes -- yes, of course. Seven an' six.' He stared abstractedly, pushed the silver over, and melted away into the darkness of the back room.

`Now those two 'll jaw about the Mutiny till tea-time,' said Beetle.

`Old Keyte was at Sobraon,' said Stalky. `Hear him talk about that sometimes! Beats Foxy hollow.'

The Head's face, inscrutable as ever, was bent over a pile of letters.

`What do you think?' he said at last to the Reverend John Gillett.

`It's a good idea. There's no denying that -- an estimable idea.'