Majorat waxed wroth, and confided his indignation to Termite, who was a good audience, "It's all the fault of that unlucky captain--we're just slaves!" He shook his fist as he spoke towards the Town Hall.
But Termite shrugged his shoulders, looked at him unkindly, and said, "Like a rotten egg, that's how you talk.

That captain, and all the red tabs and brass hats, it's not them that invented the rules.

They're just gilded machines--machines like you, but not so cheap.

If you want to do away with discipline, do away with war, my fellow; that's a sight easier than to make it amusing for the private." He left Majorat crestfallen, and the others as well.

For my part I admired the peculiar skill with which the anti-militarist could give answers beside the mark and yet always seem to be in the right.
During those days they multiplied the route-marches and the exercises intended to let the officers get the men again in hand.