blacker than that of bringing shame on the Regiment, which was the
best-shooting, best-drilled, best set-up, bravest, most
illustrious, and in all respects most desirable Regiment within
the compass of the Seven Seas. He was taught the legends of the
Mess Plate, from the great grinning Golden Gods that had come out
of the Summer Palace in Pekin to the silver-mounted markhor-horn
snuffmull presented by the last C. 0. (he who spake to the seven
subalterns). And every one of those legends told him of battles
fought at long odds, without fear as without support; of
hospitality catholic as an Arab's; of friendships deep as the sea
and steady as the fighting-line; of honour won by hard roads for
honour's sake; and of instant and unquestioning devotion to the
Regiment - the Regiment that claims the lives of all and lives
forever.

More than once, too, he came officially into contact with the
Regimental colours, which looked like the lining of a bricklayer's
hat on the end of a chewed stick. Bobby did not kneel and worship
them, because British subalterns are not constructed in that
manner. Indeed, he condemned them for their weight at the very
moment that they were filling him with awe and other more noble
sentiments.

But best of all was the occasion when he moved with the Tail
Twisters in review order at the breaking of a November day.
Allowing for duty-men and sick, the Regiment was one thousand and
eighty strong, and Bobby belonged to them; for was he not a
Subaltern of the Line, - the whole Line and nothing but the Line,
- as the tramp of two thousand one hundred and sixty sturdy
ammunition boots attested? He would not have changed places with