"
"Not in the foreground, as a rule," replies Bobby Little gently.
"About turn again, all of you, and we'll have another try."
In his next attempt Bobby abandons individual catechism.
"Now," he begins, "what conspicuous objects do we notice on this
target? In the foreground I can see a low knoll. To the left I see a
windmill. In the distance is a tall chimney. Half-right is a church.
How would that church be marked on a map?"
No reply.
"Well," explains Bobby, anxious to parade a piece of knowledge which
he only acquired himself a day or two ago, "churches are denoted in
maps by a cross, mounted on a square or circle, according as the
church has a square tower or a steeple. What has this church got?"
"A nock!" bellow the platoon, with stunning enthusiasm. (All but
Private M'Micking, that is.)
"A clock, sir," translates the sergeant, _sotto voce_.
"A clock? All right: but what I wanted was a steeple. Then, farther
away, we can see a mine, a winding brook, and a house, with a wall in
front of it. Who can see them?"
To judge by the collective expression of the audience, no one does.
Bobby ploughs on.
"Upon the skyline we notice--Squad, '_shun!_"
Captain Wagstaffe has strolled up. He is second in command of A
Company. Bobby explains to him modestly what he has been trying to do.
"Yes, I heard you," says Wagstaffe. "You take a breather, while I
carry on for a bit.
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