stripe, the day after Vittoria, looked on him as the hopefullest of
his youngsters.

'Feels like?' echoed the sergeant, following the young man's gaze and
observing that it rested on the great breach. 'Oh! 'tis the assault
you mean? Well, it feels pretty much like any other part of the
business, only your blood's up, and you don't have to keep yourself
warm, waiting for the guns to tire. When we stormed the San
Vincenty, now, at Badajoz--'

Some one interrupted, with a serio-comic groan.

'You've started him now, Sam Vicary! Johnny-raws of the Third
Battalion, your kind attention, pray, for Daddy Wilkes and the good
old days when pipeclay _was_ pipeclay. Don't be afraid, for though
he took that first class fortress single-handed, you may sit upon his
knee, and he'll tell you all about it.'

'It's children you are, anyway,' said the sergeant, with a tolerant
smile. 'But I'll forgive ye, when the time comes, if ye'll do the
Royals credit--and, what's more, I'll never cast up that 'twas but a
third battalion against a third-class place. Nor will I need to,' he
added, after a pause, 'if the general makes a throw for yon breach
before clearing the hornwork.'

'I wasn't thinkin' of the assault,' explained the young corporal,
simply, 'but of the women and children. It must be hell for them,
this waitin'.'

The same voice that had mocked the sergeant put up a ribald guffaw.