CHAPTER II.

"Corporal" Bannister.

"CORPORAL, I want to speak to you." It was Henry Henderson, the shoemaker, or "The old Sergeant," as he was known in the village, who spoke.

In an instant Frank, whom he addressed, made answer:

"All right, sergeant, I'm coming."

And with this, he left the others, and made his way into the little low-ceilinged shop to have a chat with the old man, for the two were excellent friends.

"I want to know," said Henderson, "when you are going to drill them recruits of yours again. I ain't seen no soldiering on the Green for nearly a week. You'll never get your third stripe if you neglect your duty."

"It hasn't been my fault, sergeant," replied the little lad, "really and truly. There have been so many things to hinder me, one way and another."

"Well, well, if it wasn't your fault, I won't scold you. What about to-morrow afternoon?"

"To-morrow—Saturday? Yes, I can manage it. You might put up a notice in the window to let the boys know, will you?"

This was the usual proceeding, and the old sergeant smilingly agreed. In his day he had been a brave and gallant soldier, and right well had he fought for his country.

"What time shall we say?" he asked next.

"At two o'clock," answered Frank; "and mind you put 'sharp.'"

"All right, young master. I suppose you'll be in uniform?"

"Of course I shall, sergeant. I say,—" (here Frank looked a little pleading), "when do you think I shall be able to get my third stripe?"

"All in good time, sonnie," replied the old man; "you're a bit young yet to be a full sergeant."

"Now then, 'Enery," (here came a woman's voice from the little parlour behind the shop), "when you've done with your play-actin', you might as well come in and 'ave your dinner. If you don't, I shall 'ave the 'ash all done to smash.'

"Didn't know you could make up poetry, my dear," answered Henderson, in no way disturbed.

He loved this bit of "play-acting," as his wife called it, with "Master Frank," and no greater delight had he than to stand at his shop door, which faced the village green, and watch the "corporal" drill his "men," a band of village lads whose ages varied from six to ten. Soldiering was a very favourite game with Frank, and occasionally his brother and sisters would consent to being drilled just for the sake of pleasing him.

On Frank's ninth birthday his father had given him a suit of khaki—the child had preferred it to any other present. But it was old Henderson who had supplied the stripes, and raised him to the rank of corporal. It was he, too, who had taught the little lad the drill, Frank proving a very apt pupil.

The notice which Henderson put in his shop window early on Saturday morning ran thus:

Corporal Bannister will Drill his Soldiers this Afternoon at Two o'clock on the Green. New Recruits Wanted.

And new recruits came, as it proved. There were twenty lads gathered together on the Green when the corporal made his appearance—a sturdy, well-set-up little figure dressed in khaki.

Amongst the interested onlookers during the afternoon was Mr. Charlton. He chanced to take up his stand by old Henderson's shop. And the shoemaker, having the leisure, and being in a chatty frame of mind, told him many things concerning the Bannister family.

He learnt of Frank's longing to be a sergeant, and discovered, moreover, that Henderson had been told all about the mortgage-box.

"My only fear," said the old man, "is that it should spoil them nice youngsters and turn them into money-grubbers."

"I don't think there is much fear of that," replied Mr. Charlton; and he was right.

[Illustration: BOTH BOYS PEERED OVER THE EDGE OF THE CLIFF.]

After the drilling was over that afternoon, the corporal and several of the other lads made up their minds to have a ramble by the sea-shore. This was a very frequent ending up to the game of soldiering when there happened to be time.

Amongst the village boys was a lad by the name of David Perry, who was a favourite with Frank.

He was the son of a widow lady who was very poor, and who lived in quite a little cottage near the sea.

The two had interests in common, and so it happened that they presently drifted from the others and climbed by slow degrees to the top of the cliff.

Feeling hot and tired, they sat down for a while to rest, and were just in the middle of a chat when loud cries from below fell on their ears.

"Help! Help!" The words rang out again and again.

Frank and David knew in a moment that something was wrong with their comrades. Both boys peered over the edge of the cliff, and the sight which met their eyes made them lose something of the healthy colour in their cheeks.

Midway on the cliffs, about twenty feet from the shore, were five or six of the boys, too frightened to move one way or another.

Instead of taking the winding path by which they could have ascended in perfect safety, they had attempted to climb the steeper part.

"Oh, Frank," cried David, "whatever 'shall' we do? They'll fall in a minute and—and—"

David was almost in tears; he was not of a particularly brave disposition.

"We've got to go and help them," said Frank, "and look sharp about it too."

"I—I can't," half sobbed poor David. "It makes me dizzy even to think about it."

"All right then," replied Frank, half impatiently. "You stop where you are, and I'll go."

David did as he was bidden. Without another word Frank started on his work of rescue. Fortunately, he knew the cliffs as well as any little boy in the village. Close to where the lads were standing in such peril was a narrow path which, if they could only keep their heads, they could reach without much difficulty. But at the present moment they were too paralysed with fear to realize anything except their danger.

Frank took the winding path, and well before five minutes had passed he was within a few feet of the terrified lads.

At the sight of him, they redoubled their cries for help. By an unlucky chance, Frank took one look at the depth below, and for a moment his brave little heart failed him.

Then a sudden thought of "Mother" flashed into his mind—of his mother who had said that God never failed to watch over His children. His fears then seemed to leave him, and he answered the shouts for aid in quite a steady voice.

"Don't be frightened," said he, "it's all right; you've got nothing to be afraid of. I'll help you."

And the boys felt sure he would.

"All you've got to do," went on Frank, "is just to step along that narrow edge of cliff and make for me. There's a path where I'm standing, only you can't see it because it's nearly hidden by bushes."

"We—we're afraid to move," faltered out Willie Benson, the foremost of the lads; "if we do, we shall fall."

"Stupids!" cried little Frank. "Do as you are told!" His voice was peremptory. "Willie, you catch hold of that bush this minute; I'll come and meet you part of the way, and hold out my hand."

Frank was as good as his word.

Willie hesitated for a second, and then took the first step towards safety. Finding the undergrowth well able to bear the strain put upon it, he presently gained a certain amount of pluck.

There was almost breathless silence as he moved along step by step nearer his young rescuer. At last, his hand was gripped in Frank's tight clasp, and in less time than it takes to tell he was out of danger.

Then came hope and strength to all the others. One by one they followed Willie's example, and very soon, to the relief of everybody concerned, their perils were a thing of the past.

By five o'clock that evening old Henderson had heard the story, not from Frank, but from David Perry, who had watched the whole scene with fascinated gaze from the top of the cliff.

"Bless the boy!" he muttered, after David had left him to spread the news in the village. "I knew he was made of the right stuff—plucky little chap that he is! He deserves to be a sergeant, and a sergeant he shall be!"

And this was how little "Corporal" Bannister won his third stripe.