It really seemed as though Lieutenant Morris and Captain Prescott were bent on annihilating each other.
Could this fierce, mutual onslaught be pretense---play?
Then, as the last move of the fourth series was executed the two infantry officers jumped back a step each and dipped the points of their gleaming blades by way of courtesy.

The other three platoons of the company had stopped drill to watch.

How the thrilled men of A company wished to applaud and cheer! "Lieutenant Morris and I are very poor hands at bayonet work, compared with what we want you men to be when this regiment sails for France," Prescott remarked, smilingly, as he handed back the rifle to its owner.
From that platoon Prescott passed on to others in his company, offering a remark here and a word of instruction there.
"You men must do everything to get your muscles up to concert pitch," Captain Prescott announced.

"No lady-like thrusts will ever push a bayonet into a German's face.

A ton of weight is needed behind every bayonet thrust or jab!" An orderly approached, saluting.
"Compliments of the commanding officer, sir, and he will see the captain in his office at regimental headquarters, sir." Returning the salute Dick walked off the drill ground as though he had nothing on his mind.