"Corporal" Bannister.
"CORPORAL, I want to speak to you." It was Henry Henderson, the
shoemaker, or "The old Sergeant," as he was known in the village, who
spoke.
In an instant Frank, whom he addressed, made answer:
"All right, sergeant, I'm coming."
And with this, he left the others, and made his way into the little
low-ceilinged shop to have a chat with the old man, for the two were
excellent friends.
"I want to know," said Henderson, "when you are going to drill them
recruits of yours again. I ain't seen no soldiering on the Green for
nearly a week. You'll never get your third stripe if you neglect your
duty."
"It hasn't been my fault, sergeant," replied the little lad, "really
and truly. There have been so many things to hinder me, one way and
another."
"Well, well, if it wasn't your fault, I won't scold you. What about
to-morrow afternoon?"
"To-morrow—Saturday? Yes, I can manage it. You might put up a notice in
the window to let the boys know, will you?"
This was the usual proceeding, and the old sergeant smilingly agreed.
In his day he had been a brave and gallant soldier, and right well had
he fought for his country.
"What time shall we say?" he asked next.
"At two o'clock," answered Frank; "and mind you put 'sharp.'"
"All right, young master. I suppose you'll be in uniform?"
"Of course I shall, sergeant. I say,—" (here Frank looked a little
pleading), "when do you think I shall be able to get my third stripe?"
"All in good time, sonnie," replied the old man; "you're a bit young
yet to be a full sergeant."
"Now then, 'Enery," (here came a woman's voice from the little parlour
behind the shop), "when you've done with your play-actin', you might as
well come in and 'ave your dinner. If you don't, I shall 'ave the 'ash
all done to smash.'
"Didn't know you could make up poetry, my dear," answered Henderson, in
no way disturbed.
He loved this bit of "play-acting," as his wife called it, with "Master
Frank," and no greater delight had he than to stand at his shop door,
which faced the village green, and watch the "corporal" drill his
"men," a band of village lads whose ages varied from six to ten.
Soldiering was a very favourite game with Frank, and occasionally his
brother and sisters would consent to being drilled just for the sake of
pleasing him.
On Frank's ninth birthday his father had given him a suit of khaki—the
child had preferred it to any other present. But it was old Henderson
who had supplied the stripes, and raised him to the rank of corporal.
It was he, too, who had taught the little lad the drill, Frank proving
a very apt pupil.
The notice which Henderson put in his shop window early on Saturday
morning ran thus:
Corporal Bannister
will Drill his Soldiers this Afternoon
at Two o'clock on the Green.
New Recruits Wanted.
And new recruits came, as it proved. There were twenty lads gathered
together on the Green when the corporal made his appearance—a sturdy,
well-set-up little figure dressed in khaki.
Amongst the interested onlookers during the afternoon was Mr. Charlton.
He chanced to take up his stand by old Henderson's shop. And the
shoemaker, having the leisure, and being in a chatty frame of mind,
told him many things concerning the Bannister family.
He learnt of Frank's longing to be a sergeant, and discovered,
moreover, that Henderson had been told all about the mortgage-box.
"My only fear," said the old man, "is that it should spoil them nice
youngsters and turn them into money-grubbers."
"I don't think there is much fear of that," replied Mr. Charlton; and
he was right.
[Illustration: BOTH BOYS PEERED OVER THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF.]
After the drilling was over that afternoon, the corporal and several of
the other lads made up their minds to have a ramble by the sea-shore.
This was a very frequent ending up to the game of soldiering when there
happened to be time.
Amongst the village boys was a lad by the name of David Perry, who was
a favourite with Frank.
He was the son of a widow lady who was very poor, and who lived in
quite a little cottage near the sea.
The two had interests in common, and so it happened that they presently
drifted from the others and climbed by slow degrees to the top of the
cliff.
Feeling hot and tired, they sat down for a while to rest, and were just
in the middle of a chat when loud cries from below fell on their ears.
"Help! Help!" The words rang out again and again.
Frank and David knew in a moment that something was wrong with their
comrades. Both boys peered over the edge of the cliff, and the sight
which met their eyes made them lose something of the healthy colour in
their cheeks.
Midway on the cliffs, about twenty feet from the shore, were five or
six of the boys, too frightened to move one way or another.
Instead of taking the winding path by which they could have ascended in
perfect safety, they had attempted to climb the steeper part.
"Oh, Frank," cried David, "whatever 'shall' we do? They'll fall in a
minute and—and—"
David was almost in tears; he was not of a particularly brave
disposition.
"We've got to go and help them," said Frank, "and look sharp about it
too."
"I—I can't," half sobbed poor David. "It makes me dizzy even to think
about it."
"All right then," replied Frank, half impatiently. "You stop where you
are, and I'll go."
David did as he was bidden. Without another word Frank started on his
work of rescue. Fortunately, he knew the cliffs as well as any little
boy in the village. Close to where the lads were standing in such peril
was a narrow path which, if they could only keep their heads, they
could reach without much difficulty. But at the present moment they
were too paralysed with fear to realize anything except their danger.
Frank took the winding path, and well before five minutes had passed he
was within a few feet of the terrified lads.
At the sight of him, they redoubled their cries for help. By an unlucky
chance, Frank took one look at the depth below, and for a moment his
brave little heart failed him.
Then a sudden thought of "Mother" flashed into his mind—of his mother
who had said that God never failed to watch over His children. His
fears then seemed to leave him, and he answered the shouts for aid in
quite a steady voice.
"Don't be frightened," said he, "it's all right; you've got nothing to
be afraid of. I'll help you."
And the boys felt sure he would.
"All you've got to do," went on Frank, "is just to step along that
narrow edge of cliff and make for me. There's a path where I'm
standing, only you can't see it because it's nearly hidden by bushes."
"We—we're afraid to move," faltered out Willie Benson, the foremost of
the lads; "if we do, we shall fall."
"Stupids!" cried little Frank. "Do as you are told!" His voice was
peremptory. "Willie, you catch hold of that bush this minute; I'll come
and meet you part of the way, and hold out my hand."
Frank was as good as his word.
Willie hesitated for a second, and then took the first step towards
safety. Finding the undergrowth well able to bear the strain put upon
it, he presently gained a certain amount of pluck.
There was almost breathless silence as he moved along step by step
nearer his young rescuer. At last, his hand was gripped in Frank's
tight clasp, and in less time than it takes to tell he was out of
danger.
Then came hope and strength to all the others. One by one they followed
Willie's example, and very soon, to the relief of everybody concerned,
their perils were a thing of the past.
By five o'clock that evening old Henderson had heard the story, not
from Frank, but from David Perry, who had watched the whole scene with
fascinated gaze from the top of the cliff.
"Bless the boy!" he muttered, after David had left him to spread the
news in the village. "I knew he was made of the right stuff—plucky
little chap that he is! He deserves to be a sergeant, and a sergeant he
shall be!"
And this was how little "Corporal" Bannister won his third stripe.