Gil the Gunner | Page 3

and tapping his
snuff-box; "much too early. You are such a boy. Why, you'll be the
youngest officer in the service, though you do look old. I should have
liked you to stay with us a couple of years longer."
"Yes, sir," I faltered. "I'm afraid I've got on very badly."
"No," he said sharply, "that's it; you have not got on badly with your
studies. From every professor I have had the same report, that your
papers are excellent. That's where it is. You were nearly at the head of
the list in the artillery, and it was only just that you should be appointed.
But, all the same, you dog, you've influential people at your back. That
old uncle the director. I hope one of these days both services will give
their promotions and appointments by merit alone."
"Then you think it unjust, sir, that one so young as I am should get his
commission?" I said warmly.
"No, I do not, Vincent. Don't be so peppery. What a temper you have,
sir. You must master that. I think, in this instance, the interest has been
well exercised. I have had plenty of inquiries about you, and I've been
obliged to speak well of you always."

I coloured a little.
"You're too young, but they want officers badly, and you'll soon get
older, and I have no doubt will make a good soldier, if you command
your temper. You ought to have been in the engineers, though."
"Oh no, sir," I said eagerly. "I want to be a gunner. Is the commission
for the Horse Artillery?"
He laughed and took snuff.
"Why, you conceited young greenhorn!" he said good-humouredly.
"Has all the teaching of the Honourable the East India Company's
profession been so poor here at Brandscombe, that you have not
learned that it is quite a promotion to get into the Horse Brigade. That
they are picked men from the foot--men full of dash--who can afford to
keep the best of horses, and who are ready to ride at anything."
"My uncle would let me have any horses I want, sir," I said; "and I can
ride."
"Like a gentleman in the park," he said contemptuously.
"No, sir," I said warmly. "My father is a splendid horseman, and I've
hunted a great deal. Why, he used to put me on a pony when I was only
six, and whenever I was at home he made me hunt with him, and go
straight across country."
"Humph! Wonder he did not break your neck!"
"Oh no, sir," I replied; "but I have broken my arm, and had some falls."
"Ah, well; be content with your commission in the foot. Some day,
perhaps, you may get into the horse, especially if you ride well, and
have some interest to back you up. Well, I congratulate you, Vincent,
my lad, and I am well satisfied with your progress."
"Satisfied, sir?" I said, as I recalled the scolding of an hour earlier.

"Oh yes, on the whole, my boy. You've got the makings of a good
soldier in you. Little too fond of fighting. Ought to be in your favour,
eh? But it isn't. A good officer never fights if he can help it; but when
he does, why, of course, he fights skilfully, and lets the enemy know
that he is in earnest. But seriously, Vincent, you have one great failing."
"More than one, sir, I'm afraid," I said dolefully.
"Never mind the others; perhaps they'll cure themselves. But you must
keep a strict watch over that temper of yours, eh?"
"Yes, sir," I said penitently; "I have a horrible temper."
"A temper, Vincent, not a horrible temper. And I don't know that you
need regret it so long as you learn to subdue it. Tight-curb, that's all.
Make a better soldier of you. It means spirit and decision, properly
schooled. Oh, you'll do, boy. I should like to turn out another hundred
of you."
I stared at him in surprise, for I had been working under my military
tutor always troubled by the impression that I was the most
troublesome pupil he had, and that I was getting on worse than any
fellow there.
"I mean it, boy," he said, smiling and taking another tiny pinch of snuff.
"Well, Vincent, my lad, I congratulate you. An hour ago you were my
student and pupil; this despatch tells me that you are now my
brother-officer. So good speed to you, and God bless you!"
His eyes looked a little moist as he shook hands with me warmly, and,
though my own eyes felt a little misty from emotion, a cloud seemed to
pass from them, and I began to realise that I had been fancying all kinds
of things which were not true.