"I'll tell you what you ought to do, just before every big hike," laughed Hal.
"Don't tell me anything about the hospital," murmured Hyman disgustedly. "I tried that, day before we left Fort Clowdry, but the rainmaker warned me that if I tried to make hospital report, he'd see to it that I was left on thin gruel diet for a month."
"The rainmaker knew his business," mocked Hal. "And I've heard another yarn about that rainmaker."
"What?"
"After a malingerer gets his thin gruel down the rainmaker gives him a stiff dose of syrup of ipecac, and the gruel comes up again."
"There's no show for a man in the Army nowadays," sighed Hyman, who, with all his pretense at "kicking," was a keen soldier and dependable man.
In every regiment are some soldiers who would shirk every arduous duty if it were possible. The favorite device, with such men, is to turn malingerer – that is, to pretend illness and gain admission to hospital, which means a solid rest while comrades are working hard. But the successes of malingerers in the way of shirking have made Army surgeons keener, also. Lucky is the suspected malingerer who doesn't get put on thin diet and fed nauseating medicines.
From the group of officers ahead on the trail came Captain Freeman and First Lieutenant Ray of C Company.
"Mr. Holmes," called Captain Freeman, "let C Company fall in and take up the march again."
Young Lieutenant Holmes instantly gave the order to fall in. A moment later C Company moved off at the route step.
"What does that mean?" Hal asked Hyman.
"Oh, some new scheme that the officers have hatched up," replied Hyman. "There'll probably be a sham engagement on between C and our company to-morrow."
"We're lucky if it doesn't take place in the night," grunted another soldier.
"Well, my man, suppose it does?" demanded Sergeant Hupner, appearing behind the "kicker." "What do you suppose these manœuvres are for? They're to teach you the soldier's trade. They're to fit you so that, in actual war, you'll know what to do under any given conditions. The better you know your trade, in war, the better chances you have to come out of the war alive. This field duty, which so many of you dislike, is for the training of every officer and man in the very things he does in war time. The better every officer and man understands them the better is each fellow's chance of keeping alive in war time. Those of you who grumble ought to be ashamed of yourselves. Look around you at some of the older soldiers who've seen service, and you'll find they never kick."
"B Company fall in!" rang the order, this time from Captain Cortland.
But the march was to be a short one. The command was led into the grove and halted. The order to pitch camp was given. Now a lively scene followed.
As the outer covering of his blanket roll each soldier carries a flap of canvas, which constitutes one half of a shelter tent, as it is officially termed. The soldier's name for it is dog tent or pup house. Each man also carries two jointed sticks. One pair of sticks is jointed to form the front pole of the tent, the other the rear pole. In front of the tent site a peg is driven, and a cord passed from this peg up over the front pole, across to the rear pole, and down to a peg at the rear. Now the two flaps of canvas are fitted over this frame and the tent is up.
"Let's beat the company to it, Noll?" breathed Hal in his bunkie's ear. In the Army the "bunkie" is the man with whom the tent is shared. Usually two bunkies become close chums, even if they were not before joining the service.
"We've done it," breathed Hal, as he and Noll straightened up and gazed about them. "That takes the crimp out of a few veterans."
"Get a hike on, some of you men!" called First Sergeant Gray briskly. Then he turned to glare mildly at Hooper and Dowley, who were finishing last.
Corporal Cotter, his own tent up with Corporal Reynolds, turned to look down the company street.
"Hooper, you and Dowley are going to hear something," predicted the corporal dryly.
"That's done well enough," grumbled Dowley, glancing at his tent.
Captain Cortland stood at the head of the company street glancing down.
"One tent forward out of alignment," called the company commander, then stepped down the street. "Who are the men that occupy this tent?" he demanded, halting.
"My tent, sir," mumbled Hooper.
"And mine, sir," added Dowley.
"Don't you men know how to erect a tent in alignment with the street front?" inquired Captain Cortland. "Take it down. Corporal Cotter, stand by to see that these men set up their tent in soldierly fashion."
"I told you you'd hear something," remarked Cotter.
"Aw, what's the use of being so finicky about a tent a quarter of an inch out of alignment?" grumbled Hooper.
"The tent is more than that out of alignment," returned the corporal. "And there's every use in the world in performing every duty in the most soldierly fashion."
"Say," began Dowley argumentatively.
"Silence, and get on with your work," ordered Corporal Cotter sharply. "Hooper, you're close to thirty-five years old. Dowley, you're around thirty. Yet those two kids, Overton and Terry, are only eighteen, and they beat you at every point in soldierliness."
"Soldiering is a kid's game," growled Dowley.
"The best men we get in the Army are those we catch young," retorted Corporal Cotter. "Stop! Tighten that cord a whole lot more." "How does that suit you, Corp?" demanded Dowley when, at last, the sulky bunkies had again finished their task.
"Address me as Corporal, not Corp," returned Cotter stiffly.
"Well, Corporal, how do you like the set of our tent now?" insisted Private Dowley.
"It looks better this time," assented the corporal. "But, after this, you men, instead of sneering at the kids of the company, will do well to show yourselves as good men."
"We're always getting the kids rubbed into us," growled Hooper.
"Because they're head and shoulders over you both as soldiers," rejoined Corporal Cotter, turning on his heel. "Even William Green is a lot ahead of you as a soldier."
As Dowley turned to glance scowlingly up the street he caught the glance of Captain Cortland, glancing once more down the street.
"Your tent is in proper alignment this time, men," nodded the company commander, and went away.
Now the creaking of heavy wagons was heard along the trail, accompanied by the loud voices of the drivers. The expedition was accompanied by six heavy wagons, each drawn by four mules.
"Water in the brook; wood two hundred yards southeast!" shouted Lieutenant Prescott, who had been sent scouting for these necessities. On pitching camp the first task is always to learn where wood and the best drinking water can be found in the neighborhood. Often the water close at hand is forbidden for cooking and drinking purposes in favor of clear water at a distance.
Three of the approaching wagons continued along the trail, while the other three turned in at the side of the grove.
Corporal Reynolds and four men were detailed to unload and put up the eight-by-ten khaki-colored tent that was to be occupied by the three company officers.
"I notice that the wide stripes don't care about sleeping in pup-houses," grumbled Hooper to his bunkie.
"Wide-stripe" is the nick-name sometimes given an officer on account of the fact that the side stripe down the trousers' leg of the blue uniform is much broader than that worn by the non-commissioned officer. Privates wear no stripes on the trousers' leg, with the exception of musicians, who wear two very narrow parallel stripes.
Soon after the erection of the little village of tents, the soldiers scattered, though they soon returned with bundles of fire wood.
"You had better go and chase the stuff for our fire, Bill," proposed Dowley.
"Chase