"
"I compromised on a halfpenny--a sticky one--or I'd have hurt their
feelings," said Pigeon gravely. "But I gave 'em sixpence back."
"How were they manoeuvring and what with?" I asked.
"Oh, by whistle and hand-signal. They had the dummy Board School guns and
flags for positions, but they were rushing their attack much too quick
for that open country. I told 'em so, and they admitted it."
"But who taught 'em?" I said.
"They had learned in their schools, of course, like the rest of us. They
were all of 'em over ten; and squad-drill begins when they're eight. They
knew their company-drill a heap better than they knew their King's
English."
"How much drill do the boys put in?" I asked.
"All boys begin physical drill to music in the Board Schools when they're
six; squad-drill, one hour a week, when they're eight; company-drill when
they're ten, for an hour and a half a week. Between ten and twelve they
get battalion drill of a sort. They take the rifle at twelve and record
their first target-score at thirteen. That's what the Code lays down. But
it's worked very loosely so long as a boy comes up to the standard of his
age."
"In Canada we don't need your physical drill. We're born fit," said
Pigeon, "and our ten-year-olds could knock spots out of your
twelve-year-olds."
"I may as well explain," said the Boy, "that the Dove is our 'swop'
officer. He's an untamed Huskie from Nootka Sound when he's at home.
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