“Do you think you’d like the Artillery?” Colonel Rannion questioned sharply.  His tone was increasing in sharpness.

With an equal sharpness George answered unhesitatingly:  “Yes, I should.”

“Can you ride?”

“I can ride.  In holidays and so on I get on my mother’s horses.”

“Have you hunted?”

“Never.”

“H’m!...  Well, I know my friend Colonel Hullocher, who commands the Second Brigade of—­er—­my Division, is short of an officer.  Would you care for that?”

“Certainly.”

Without saying anything else Colonel Rannion took up the telephone.  In less than half a minute George heard him saying:  “Colonel Hullocher....  Ask him to be good enough to come to the telephone at once....  That you, Hullocher?”

George actually trembled.  He no longer felt that heavy weight on his stomach, but he felt ‘all gone.’  He saw himself lying wounded near a huge gun on a battlefield.

Colonel Rannion was continuing into the telephone: 

“I can recommend a friend of mine to you for a commission.  George Cannon—­C-a-n-n-o-n—­the architect.  I don’t know whether you know of him....  Oh!  About thirty....  No, but I think he’d suit you....  Who recommends him? I do....  Like to see him, I suppose, first?...  No, no necessity to see him.  I’ll tell him....  Yes, I shall see you in the course of the day.”  The conversation then apparently deviated to other subjects, and drew to a close....  “Good-bye.  Thanks....  Oh!  I say.  Shall he get his kit?...  Cannon....  Yes, he’d better.  Yes, that’s understood of course.  Good-bye.”

“That will be quite all right,” said Colonel Rannion to George.  “Colonel Hullocher thinks you may as well see to your kit at once, provided of course you pass the doctor and you are ready to work for nothing until your commission comes along.”

“Oh!  Naturally!” George agreed, in a dream.  He was saying to himself, frightened, astounded, staggered, and yet uplifted:  “Get my kit!  Get my kit!  But it’s scarcely a minute since I decided to go into the Army.”

“I may get your commission ante-dated.  I haven’t all the papers here, but give me an address where I can find you at once, and you shall have them this afternoon.  I’ll get the Colonel to send them to the Territorial Association to-morrow, and probably in about a month you’ll be in the Gazette.  I don’t know when Colonel Hullocher will want you to report for duty, but I shall see him to-day.  You’ll get a telegram when you’re needed.  Now I must go.  Which way are you going?”

“I’m going home for my breakfast,” said George, writing down his two addresses.

Colonel Rannion said: 

“I’m off to Wimbledon.  I can drop you in Fulham Road if you like.”

In the automobile George received a few useful hints, but owing to the speed of the vehicle the time was far too short for any extensive instruction.  The car drew up.  For an instant Colonel Rannion became freely cordial.  “He must rather have cottoned to me, or he wouldn’t have done what he has,” thought George, proud to be seen in converse with a staff-officer, waving a hand in adieu.  And he thought:  “Perhaps next time I see him I shall be saluting him!”