Have a whisky and soda?
I've assigned you to duty on my staff. Report here again to-morrow at
ten and have your things moved over to the palace. Major Stroud will
show you your quarters, captain!"
Major Stroud advanced and shook hands with Sam. He was every inch a
soldier in appearance, but old enough to be a retired field-marshal.
The three indulged in whiskies and soda, and Sam took his leave after
a brief formal conversation. He found Cleary waiting for him in the
street.
"How on earth did you do it?" cried Sam.
"It's the B. A. C. L.," said Cleary.
"The what!"
"The Benevolent Assimilation Company, Limited. What do you suppose?
With _The Daily Lyre_ thrown in too."
"Oh! thank you, thank you, my dear, dear friend," ejaculated Sam, with
tears in his eyes. "I was beginning to think that my whole life was a
failure, and here I am just in the very best place in the world. I
won't disappoint you, I won't disappoint you!"
In the few days at the barracks of the 200th Infantry, Sam had learned
something of regimental work, and now he applied himself assiduously to
the study of the business of the headquarters of a general in command
in the field, for the army was practically in the field. At first it
all seemed to him to be a maze quite without a plan, and he hoped that
in time he would begin to see the outline of a system. But the more he
observed the less system he saw.
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