Oh, it's chronic 'ere of a Saturday sometimes,
unless you flag yourself."
I followed his eye and saw white flags fluttering before a drum and fife
band and a knot of youths in sweaters gathered round the dummy breech of a
four-inch gun which they were feeding at express rates.
"The attacks don't interfere with you if you flag yourself, Sir," the boy
explained. "That's a Second Camp team from the Technical Schools loading
against time for a bet."
We picked our way deviously through the busy groups. Apparently it was not
etiquette to notice a Guard officer, and the youths at the twenty-five
pounder were far too busy to look up. I watched the cleanly finished hoist
and shove-home of the full-weight shell from a safe distance, when I
became aware of a change among the scattered boys on the common, who
disappeared among the hillocks to an accompaniment of querulous whistles.
A boy or two on bicycles dashed from corps to corps, and on their arrival
each corps seemed to fade away.
The youths at loading practice did not pause for the growing hush round
them, nor did the drum and fife band drop a single note. Bayley exploded
afresh. "The Schools are preparing for our attack, by Jove! I wonder who's
directin' 'em. Do _you_ know?"
The warrior of the Eighth District looked up shrewdly.
"I saw Mr. Cameron speaking to Mr. Levitt just as the Guard went up the
road. 'E's our 'ead-master, Mr.
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