on the firing line-第6章

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The　girl　sat　staring　thoughtfully　out　across　the　lawn。

〃I　wonder　what　sort　of　a　soldier　he　will　make；〃　she　said；　half　to　herself。　Weldon　faced　her　sharply。

〃Why？〃

〃Because　life　is　an　embodied　joke　to　him。〃

Weldon　rose　a　little　stiffly。　His　call　had　lasted　its　allotted　time；　nevertheless；　under　other　conditions；　it　might　have　lasted　even　longer。　He　liked　Ethel　Dent　absolutely；　yet　now　and　then　she　had　a　curious　fashion　of　antagonizing　him。　The　alternations　of　her　cordial　moments　with　her　formal　ones　were　no　more　marked　than　were　the　alternations　of　her　viewpoint。　As　a　rule；　she　looked　on　life　with　the　impartial　eyes　of　a　healthy…minded　boy；　occasionally；　however；　she　showed　herself　hidebound　by　the　fetters　of　tradition；　and；　worst　of　all；　she　wore　the　fetters　as　if　they　lay　loosely　upon　her。　At　such　moments；　he　longed　acutely　to　impress　her　with　his　own　point　of　view；　as　the　only　just　one　possible。

〃I　think　perhaps　you　don't　fully　understand　Carew；　Miss　Dent；〃　he　said　courteously；　yet　with　a　slight　accent　of　finality。　〃He　laughs　at　life　like　a　child；　but　he　lives　it　like　a　man。　I　have　known　him　since　we　were　boys　together；　I　have　never　known　him　to　shirk　or　to　funk　a　difficult　point。　If　the　Scottish　Horse　ever　sees　the　firing　line；　it　will　hold　no　better　trooper　than　Harry　Carew。〃

He　bowed　in　farewell　and　turned　away。　Looking　after　him；　Ethel　Dent　told　herself　that　Weldon's　simple　words　had　been　descriptive；　not　only　of　his　friend；　but　of　his　loyal；　honest　self。

Half…way　across　the　heart…shaped　bit　of　lawn　enclosed　within　the　curve　of　the　drive；　Weldon　met　another　guest　going　towards　the　steps。　There　was　no　need　of　the　trim　uniform　of　khaki　serge　to　assure　him　that　the　man　was　also　a　soldier。　The　starred　shoulder　straps　were　needless　to　show　him　that　here　was　one　born　to　command。　Glancing　up；　Weldon　looked　into　a　pair　of　keen　blue　eyes　exactly　on　a　level　with　his　own；　took　swift　note　of　the　full；　broad　forehead；　of　the　black　lashes　contrasting　with　the　yellow　hair　and　of　the　resolute　lines　of　the　shaven　chin。　Then；　mindful　of　his　frock…coat　and　shining　silk　hat；　he　repressed　his　inclination　to　salute；　and　walked　steadily　on；　quite　unconscious　of　the　part　in　his　life　which　the　stranger　was　destined　to　play；　during　the　coming　months。




CHAPTER　FOUR


Sitting　in　the　lee　of　the　picket　fence　which　bounded　Maitland　Camp　on　the　west；　Paddy　the　cook　communed　with　himself；　and　Weldon　and　Carew　communed　with　him。

〃Oh；　it's　long　and　long　yet　before　a　good　many　of　these　ones　will　be　soldiers；〃　he；　observed；　with　a　disrespectful　wave　of　his　thumb　towards　the　awkward　squad　still　manoeuvering　its　way　about　over　the　barren　stretch　of　the　parade　ground。　〃They　ride　like　tailors　squatting　on　their　press…boards；　and　they　salute　like　a　parrot　scratching　his　head　with　his　hind　paw。　A　soldier　is　like　a　poet；　born；　not　made。〃

In　leisurely　fashion；　Weldon　stretched　himself　at　full　length　and　drew　out　a　slender　pipe。

〃Paddy；　if　you　keep　on；　I'll　fire　a　kopje　at　you；〃　he　threatened。

Paddy　disdained　the　threat。

〃Glory　be；　the　kopjes　be　riveted　down　on　the　bottom　end　of　them！　But　it's　the　truth　I'm　telling。　Half　of　these　men　is　afraid　of　their　lives；　when　they're　on　a　horse。〃

〃The　horses　of　South　Africa　are　divided　into　two　classes；〃　Carew　observed　sententiously；　〃the　American　ones　that　merely　buck；　and　the　cross…eyed　Argentine　ones　that　grin　at　you　like　a　Cheshire　cat；　after　they　have　done　it。　Both　are　bad　for　the　nerves。　Still；　I'd　rather　be　respectfully　bucked；　than　bucked　and　then　laughed　at；　after　the　catastrophe　occurs。　Paddy；　my　knife　has　been　splitting　open　its　handle。　What's　to　be　done　about　it？〃

〃Let's　see。〃

Bending　forward；　Carew　drew　the　black…handled　knife　and　fork　from　the　coils　of　his　putties。　In　the　orderly　surroundings　of　Maitland　Camp；　there　was　no　especial　need　of　his　adopting　the　storage　methods　of　the　trek；　nevertheless；　he　had　taken　to　the　new　idea　with　prompt　enthusiasm。　Up　to　that　time；　it　had　never　occurred　to　him　to　bandage　his　legs　with　khaki；　and　then　convert　the　bandages　into　a　species　of　portable　sideboard。

〃Paddy；〃　Weldon　remonstrated；　〃don't　stop　to　play　with　his　knife。　No　matter　if　it　is　cracked。　So　is　he；　for　the　matter　of　that。　Go　and　tell　your　menial　troop　to　remember　to　put　a　little　beef　in　the　soup；　this　noon。　I　am　tired　of　sipping　warm　water　and　onion　juice。〃

〃What　time　is　it；　then？〃

〃My　watch　says　eleven；　but　my　stomach　declares　it　is　half…past　two。　Trot　along；　there's　a　good　Paddy。　And　don't　forget　to　tie　a　pink　string　to　my　piece　of　meat；　when　you　give　it　to　the　orderly。　Else　I　may　not　know　it's　the　best　one。〃　With　a　reluctant　yawn　and　a　glance　upward　towards　the　sun；　Paddy　scrambled　to　his　feet　and　brushed　himself　off　with　the　outspread　palms　of　his　stubby　hands。　Then　he　turned　to　the　men　behind　him。

〃Stick　your　fork　back　in　your　putties；　Mr。　Carew；　and　I'll　send　you　a　knife　to　go　with　it。　As　long　as　Paddy　manages　the　cooking　tent；　the　cracked　knives　shall　go　to　the　dunderheads。　The　best　isn't　any　too　good　for　them　as　rides　like　you　and　Mr。　Weldon；　and　drinks　no　rum　at　all。〃

Weldon　eyed　him　mockingly。

〃And　gives　their　ration　of　rum　to　Paddy；〃　he　added。　〃Go　along；　man；　and　set　your　kettles　to　boiling；　while　you　return　thanks　that　you　know　a　good　thing　when　you　see　it。〃

〃Paddy　is　a　great　boy；〃　Carew　observed；　as　the　little　Irishman　saluted　them　in　farewell；　then　turned　and　strolled　away　in　the　direction　of　his　quarters。

〃And；　what's　more；　a　most　outrageously　good　cook；〃　Weldon　assented。　〃If　Paddy's　ambition　to　shoot　a　gun　should　ever　be　fulfilled；　England　might　gain　a　soldier；　but　it　would　lose　a　chef　of　the　cordon　bleu。〃

〃If　I　were　to　choose；　I'd　sacrifice　his　sense　of　taste　for　the　sake　of　keeping　his　sense　of　humor；〃　Carew　returned。　〃Not　even　war　can　subdue　Paddy。〃

With　a　disdainful　gesture；　Weldon　pointed　out　across　the　sun…baked　parade　ground　with　the　stem　of　his　pipe。

〃War！　This？〃　he　protested。　〃It　is　nothing　in　this　world　but　a　Sunday　school　picnic。〃

And　Carew；　as　his　eyes　followed　the　pointing　pipe…stem；　was　forced　to　give　his　assent。

It　was　now　five　days　since；　with　scores　of　their　mates；　Weldon　and　Carew　had　been　passed　from　their　medical　examination　to　the　double　test　of　their　riding　and　their　shooting。　Elated　by　their　threefold　recommendation；　they　had　lost　no　time　in　donning　their　khaki　and　taking　up　their　quarters　under　the　fraction　of　canvas　allotted　to　them。　The　days　that　followed　were　busy　and　slid　past　with　a　certain　monotony；　notwithstanding　their　varied　routine。　From　morning　stables　at　seven　until　evening　stables　at　six；　each　hour　held　its　duty；　for　in　that　regular；　clock…marked　life；　recreation　was　counted　a　duty　just　as　surely　as　were　the　daily　drills。

Carew；　trained　on　the　football　field；　took　to　the　foot　drill　as　a　duck　takes　to　water。　Weldon　was　in　his　glory　on　mounted　parade。　One　summer　spent　on　an　Alberta　ranch　had　taught　him　the　tricks　of　the　broncho…buster；　and　five　o'clock　invariably　found　him　pirouetting　across　the　parade　ground　on　the　back　of　the　most　vicious　mount　to　be　found　within　the　limits　of　Maitland。　More　than　once　there　had　been　a　breathless　pause　while　the　entire　squadron　had　waited　to　watch　the　killing　of　Trooper　Weldon；　more　than　once　there　had　been　an　utterly　profane　pause　while　the　officers　had　waited　for　Trooper　Weldon　to　bring　his　bolting　steed　back　into　some　semblance　of　alignment。　The　pause　always　ended　with　Weldon　upright　in　his　saddle；　his　face　beaming　with　jovial　smiles　and　his　horse　ranged　up　with　mathematical　precision。　The　delays　were　by　no　means　helpful　to　discipline。　Nevertheless；　the　officers　yielded　to　the　inevitable　with　the　better　grace；　inasmuch　as　no　one　else　would　voluntarily　trust　life　and　limb　to　the　vicious　beasts　in　which　Weldon's　soul　delighted。

Twice　already；　during　the　past　five　days；　Weldon　had　handed　over　to　the　authorities　a　chastened　and　obedient　pony；　and　had　made　petition　to　select　a　fresh　and　untrammelled　spirit。　The　one　of　the　afternoon　before　had　been　the　most　untrammelled　he　had　as　yet　attempted。　The　contest　had　begun　with　the　first　touch　of　the　saddle。　It　had　continued　with　Weldon's　being　borne　across　the　camp　on　the　back　of　a　little　gray　bron