Part 32 (1/2)

”Did they pay you umpire's fee?” said Kyd. ”I umpired a whole afternoon once for a village school at home, and they stood me a bottle of hot ginger beer.”

”I compromised on a halfpenny--a sticky one--or I'd have hurt their feelings,” said Pigeon gravely. ”But I gave 'em sixpence back.”

”How were they manoeuvring and what with?” I asked.

”Oh, by whistle and hand-signal. They had the dummy Board School guns and flags for positions, but they were rus.h.i.+ng their attack much too quick for that open country. I told 'em so, and they admitted it.”

”But who taught 'em?” I said.

”They had learned in their schools, of course, like the rest of us. They were all of 'em over ten; and squad-drill begins when they're eight. They knew their company-drill a heap better than they knew their King's English.”

”How much drill do the boys put in?” I asked.

”All boys begin physical drill to music in the Board Schools when they're six; squad-drill, one hour a week, when they're eight; company-drill when they're ten, for an hour and a half a week. Between ten and twelve they get battalion drill of a sort. They take the rifle at twelve and record their first target-score at thirteen. That's what the Code lays down. But it's worked very loosely so long as a boy comes up to the standard of his age.”

”In Canada we don't need your physical drill. We're born fit,” said Pigeon, ”and our ten-year-olds could knock spots out of your twelve-year-olds.”

”I may as well explain,” said the Boy, ”that the Dove is our 'swop'

officer. He's an untamed Huskie from Nootka Sound when he's at home. An I. G. Corps exchanges one officer every two years with a Canadian or Australian or African Guard Corps. We've had a year of our Dove, an' we shall be sorry to lose him. He humbles our insular pride. Meantime, Morten, our 'swop' in Canada, keeps the ferocious Canuck humble. When Pij. goes we shall swop Kyd, who's next on the roster, for a Cornstalk or a Maori. But about the education-drill. A boy can't attend First Camp, as we call it, till he is a trained boy and holds his First Musketry certificate. The Education Code says he must be fourteen, and the boys usually go to First Camp at about that age. Of course, they've been to their little private camps and Boys' Fresh Air Camps and public school picnics while they were at school, but First Camp is where the young drafts all meet--generally at Aldershot in this part of the world. First Camp lasts a week or ten days, and the boys are looked over for vaccination and worked lightly in brigades with lots of blank cartridge.

Second Camp--that's for the fifteen to eighteen-year-olds--lasts ten days or a fortnight, and that includes a final medical examination. Men don't like to be chucked out on medical certificates much--nowadays. I a.s.sure you Second Camp, at Salisbury, say, is an experience for a young I.G.

officer. We're told off to 'em in rotation. A wilderness of monkeys isn't in it. The kids are apt to think 'emselves soldiers, and we have to take the edge off 'em with lots of picquet-work and night attacks.”

”And what happens after Second Camp?”

”It's hard to explain. Our system is so illogical. Theoretically, the boys needn't show up for the next three or four years after Second Camp.

They are supposed to be making their way in life. Actually, the young doctor or lawyer or engineer joins a Volunteer battalion that sticks to the minimum of camp--ten days per annum. That gives him a holiday in the open air, and now that men have taken to endowing their Volunteer drill-halls with baths and libraries, he finds, if he can't run to a club, that his own drill-hall is an efficient subst.i.tute. He meets men there who'll be useful to him later, and he keeps himself in touch with what's going on while he's studying for his profession. The town-birds--such as the chemist's a.s.sistant, clerk, plumber, mechanic, electrician, and so forth--generally put in for their town Volunteer corps as soon as they begin to walk out with the girls. They like takin'

their true-loves to our restaurants. Look yonder!” I followed his gaze, and saw across the room a man and a maid at a far table, forgetting in each other's eyes the good food on their plates.

”So it is,” said I. ”Go ahead.”

”Then, too, we have some town Volunteer corps that lay themselves out to attract promising youths of nineteen or twenty, and make much of 'em on condition that they join their Line battalion and play for their county.

Under the new county qualifications--birth or three years' residence--that means a great deal in League matches, and the same in County cricket.”

”By Jove, that's a good notion,” I cried. ”Who invented it?”

”C. B. Fry--long ago. He said in his paper, that County cricket and County volunteering ought to be on the same footing--unpaid and genuine.

'No cricketer no corps. No corps no cricketer' was his watchword. There was a row among the pro's at first, but C. B. won, and later the League had to come in. They said at first it would ruin the gate; but when County matches began to be _pukka_ county, _plus_ inter-regimental, affairs the gate trebled, and as two-thirds of the gate goes to the regiments supplying the teams some Volunteer corps fairly wallow in cash.

It's all unofficial, of course, but League Corps, as they call 'em, can take their pick of the Second Camper. Some corps ask ten guineas entrance-fee, and get it too, from the young bloods that want to s.h.i.+ne in the arena. I told you we catered for all tastes. Now, as regards the Line proper, I believe the young artisan and mechanic puts in for that before he marries. He likes the two-months' 'heef' in his first year, and five bob a week is something to go on with between times.”

”Do they follow their trade while they're in the Line?” I demanded.

”Why not? How many well-paid artisans work more than four days a week anyhow? Remember a Linesman hasn't to be drilled in your sense of the word. He must have had at least eight years' grounding in that, as well as two or three years in his Volunteer battalion. He can sleep where he pleases. He can't leave town-limits without reporting himself, of course, but he can get leave if he wants it. He's on duty two days in the week as a rule, and he's liable to be invited out for garrison duty down the Mediterranean, but his benefit societies will insure him against that.

I'll tell you about that later. If it's a hard winter and trade's slack, a lot of the bachelors are taken into the I. G. barracks (while the I. G.

is out on the heef) for theoretical instruction. Oh, I a.s.sure you the Line hasn't half a bad time of it.”

”Amazing!” I murmured. ”And what about the others?”

”The Volunteers? Observe the beauty of our system. We're a free people.