This then was an undertaking of which many a man might have felt shy, but Baden-Powell (the army is full of Baden-Powells) went at it cheerfully enough.

On the arid desert outside the castle, which is called the parade ground, B.-P.
and Captain Graham, D.S.O., taught these negroes, under a blazing sun, the rudiments of soldiering.

In one part of their drill a few simple whistle-signals were substituted for the usual words of command, such as "Halt" and "Rally," and a red fez was served out to the Levy (which in the end amounted to 860 men) as a British uniform.

The glory of this "kit," however, was somewhat obscured by a commissariat load which each warrior carried on his head; but there was no heart under those shiny ebon skins which did not beat quicker for the possession of the red fez.

The Levy, of course, had its band--a few men who made a tremendous din on elephant-hide drums, and a few more who produced two heart-breaking notes on elephants' hollowed tusks garnished with human jaw-bones.