and camping the Battery on Epsom Downs.  This organization gave George pause, especially when he remembered that the Battery was a very trifling item in the Division, and when Resmith casually informed him that a Division on the trek occupied fifteen miles of road.  He began to perceive the difference between the Army and a circus, and to figure the Staff as something other than a club of haughty, aristocratic idlers in red hats.  And when the Battery was fairly under way in the side-road, with another Battery in front and another Battery behind, and more Artillery Brigades and uncounted Infantry Brigades and a screen of Yeomanry all invisibly marching over the map in the direction of Epsom, and bound to reach a certain lettered square on the map at a certain minute—­when this dynamic situation presented itself to the tentacles of his grasping mind, he really did feel that there could be no game equal to war.

The Battery ‘rode easy,’ the men were smoking, talking, and singing in snatches, when suddenly all sounds were silenced.  Captain Resmith, who had been summoned to the Major, reined in his horse, and George did likewise, and the Battery passed by them on the left.  The Major’s voice was heard: 

“No. 2 Battery.  Eyes—­right!”

George asked: 

“What’s this?”

“C.R.A.’s ahead,” murmured Resmith.

Then another officer cried: 

“Right section.  Eyes—­right.”

And then an N.C.O. bawled: 

“A sub-section.  Eyes—­right.”

Then only did George, from the rear, see the drivers, with a simultaneous gesture, twist their heads very sharply to the right, raise their whips, and fling the thongs over the withers of the hand-horses, while the section-officer saluted.

Another N.C.O. bawled: 

“B sub-section.  Eyes—­right.”

And the same action followed.

Then another officer cried: 

“Left section.  Eyes—­right.”

So the rite proceeded.

Resmith and George had now gone back to their proper places.  George could see the drivers of the last gun gathering up the whip thongs into their hands preparatory to the salute.  C sub-section received the command.

And then, not many yards ahead, the voice of an N.C.O.: 

“D sub-section.  Eyes—­right.”

Heads turned; whips were raised and flung outwards; horses swerved slightly.

“Get ready,” muttered Resmith to George.

The figure of the C.R.A., Brigadier-General Rannion, motionless on a charger, came into view.  George’s heart was beating high.  Resmith and he saluted.  The General gazed hard at him and never moved.  They passed ahead.

The officer commanding the Third Battery had already called: 

“Battery. Eyes—­right."

The marvellous ceremonial slipped rearwards.  George was aware of tears in his eyes.  He was aware of the sentiment of worship.  He felt that he would have done anything, accomplished any deed, died, at the bidding of the motionless figure on the charger.  It was most curious.