"By-the-by, there is my gun; it is a full-choke, and a remarkably good
killer if one only holds it straight. It was a present, and I did not
like to sell it. Will you have it as a memorial from a fellow to whom
you have been uncommonly kind? Good-bye, and thank you for all."
"Good-bye," said Royce, in a voice which he had a difficulty to keep
steady. "I hope luck will turn for you soon; but I feel sure it will.
And if you have forgotten anything, or I can do anything for you, mind
you come to me, or write if I am out of town. Good-bye again."
Kavanagh wrung his old captain's hand and hurried down-stairs, leaving
him with a ball in his throat and moisture very near his eyes.
"Thank goodness that is over!" he murmured, as he left the Temple. "Now
for the barracks."
Instead of offering himself to one of the outside recruiters, he went
straight to the Orderly Room, and told a sergeant waiting outside that
he wished to join. So he was brought before the Adjutant almost at
once. He stood six feet in his stockings, and measured forty-one inches
round the chest, so there was no difficulty about his acceptance. They
jumped at him like a trout at a May fly.
He gave his real name, Reginald Kavanagh. "If I were ashamed of what I
am doing, I would not do it," he reasoned. And besides, he wished to be
traced with the greatest possible ease should the missing will be found.
Of course the life at first was extremely hard, and the companionship of
some of his comrades very distasteful to him, but he took care not to
show it. And others were as good fellows as ever stepped, and with them
he made friends.
The fact of his knowing his drill thoroughly made matters easier for
him, and he soon learned how to clean his arms and accoutrements, make
his bed, and so forth. And by dint of unhesitating obedience to orders,
even when foolish, and never answering or arguing with superiors, he got
a good name without subserviency.