Then it was that the other boys never got Billy on a holiday. When
Victoria Day came the soldiers always went "into camp" for three days,
strict military discipline reigned, and Billy must be with his company.
When Dominion Day arrived the regiment always visited some distant city
to assist in some important patriotic celebration. Thanksgiving Day
always found them in the thick of annual drill, and there was sure to be
a "sham battle" at which poor Billy had to toot the commands, his eyes
blinking and the nerves chasing themselves up and down his back, while
the blank cartridges peppered away harmlessly, and the field-pieces
roared innocently past his ears.
"The boys" usually came with throngs of citizens to see the "sham
fights." They would range themselves on a slope of hills, as near as
possible to the "battlefield," and often above the bellowing guns, above
the colonel's command, above his own shrill bugle calls, Billy could
hear Bert Hooper and Tommy McLean egging him on, sometimes with jeers,
sometimes with admiration, telling him to "Look up plucky now, Billy,
and don't stop your ears with your fingers!" He used to be astonished
at himself that he cared so little whether they teased or cheered.
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