last bid for exemption, eludes his fingers and rolls under the table.

Taking advantage of this the Colonel, with one glance of concentrated
hate in the direction of his opponent, grapples with his choler, and
by the time that his ball is returned under escort, has partially
recovered himself. He is determined to show to his subalterns the
value of coolness in an emergency. He places his ball with infinite
care and walks round the table to examine the position from every
point of view. His next move is to mark out elaborate angles with
the assistance of chalk marks on the cushions. Having finally formed
all his plans, he encourages his artillery with a few more rounds of
chalk, approaches the field with studied and dignified calm, delivers
his attack, and retires to watch the effect from his O. Pip.

His command, flying desperately across the open, loses direction,
blunders hopelessly into an obstruction on the flank, retires in
confusion, and makes a blind despairing dash for a shell-crater.
Missing this by a fraction it loses all interest in life, wanders
pitifully off at an unnatural angle, runs into the hostile force of
the Adjutant, and comes finally into contact with the red.

The Colonel hastens to remark to the enthusiastic audience that this
cannon only proves the possibilities of the noble game when accuracy
is achieved. It is calculated to improve their marksmanship, to teach
them to grasp an opportunity, to apply their tactical training, and to
render them cool in the hour of crisis.

Inspired by this truth he attempts to pull off an awkward losing
hazard. This effort is ruined by an appalling miscue which affects the
new cloth. The Colonel justly blames the chalk, removes the pet-dog