compared with what we want you men to be when this regiment sails
for France," Prescott remarked, smilingly, as he handed back the
rifle to its owner.

From that platoon Prescott passed on to others in his company,
offering a remark here and a word of instruction there.

"You men must do everything to get your muscles up to concert
pitch," Captain Prescott announced. "No lady-like thrusts will
ever push a bayonet into a German's face. A ton of weight is
needed behind every bayonet thrust or jab!"

An orderly approached, saluting.

"Compliments of the commanding officer, sir, and he will see the
captain in his office at regimental headquarters, sir."

Returning the salute Dick walked off the drill ground as though
he had nothing on his mind. Down the street he espied Greg, also
going toward headquarters, and hurried after him. On the other
side of the street was Captain Cartwright, who soon crossed over
to join them.

In silence, the three captains made their way along the street
until they reached regimental headquarters. It was a low one-story
pine shed, with the colonel's office at one end, the adjutant's
office next to it, and beyond that the rooms occupied by the sergeant
major and his clerical force, and, last of all, the chaplain's
office.