There would be houses where you would be billeted, and good food, and
shady trees and villages wherever you went. And it was such an
opportunity of seeing the Continent (``the Continent as it really
is,'' Sir Munion called it) as would never come again, and he only
wished he were younger. Sir Munion really did wish it, as he spoke,
for his own words stirred him profoundly; but somehow or other they
did not stir Sergeant Cane. No, he had done his share, and he had a
family to look after.
Sir Munion could not understand him: he went back to the Big House and
said so. He had told him all the advantages he could think of that
were there to be had for the asking, and Sergeant Cane merely
neglected them.
``Let me have a try,'' said Arthur Smith. ``He soldiered with me
before.''
Sir Munion shrugged his shoulders. He had all the advantages at his
fingers' ends, from pay to billeting: there was nothing more to be
said. Nevertheless young Smith went.
``Hullo, Sergeant Cane,'' said Smith.
``Hello, sir,'' said the sergeant.
``Do you remember that night at Reit River?''
``Don't I, sir,'' said Cane.
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