"At least, I don't believe any European
prince has half as fine a carriage as Mr. Brayton."
"I wonder if they're all as bad as this corporal," demanded Greg.
"Brayton is a tyrant in gray."
"Greg! Greg! Get a brace on yourself, old fellow," whispered Dick
warningly. "This is only the morning of the first day, and we have
before us months--years--of taking our medicine. Don't lose the gait
even before you've got it. We came here to take our medicine and
learn to be soldiers, didn't we?"
"Squad, attention!" rasped out Corporal Brayton, wheeling and
once more favoring his own green lot with his whole regard.
Repeatedly he showed these new men how to stand, how to hold
themselves and how to do it without appearing ridiculous. So
crisp, so rapping and even decorously abusive was Mr. Brayton
that the boys under his command at this moment would have
gasped had they been told that Brayton was considered one of the
easiest and best-natured of the cadet corporals. Brayton had his
work to do--that was all. It was part of his own training to learn
how to whip an awkward squad into time in the shortest possible
order.
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