"Oh, I say, Sep, do you think there'll be any uniforms too ?" "No," I said, "not in a box like this.

Here, catch hold!" I handed the first pistol to him, and he laid it beneath the swords.
"I know how many there ought to be!" he cried--"twenty-four.

A brace of pistols and a cutlass for every man.

Here, pitch them and I'll catch." There was nothing to prevent my handing them to him; but, boy-like, it seemed pleasant thus to turn work into play, and I began to pitch one by one the little heavy packages as I drew them out of the chest.
Bigley nearly let one fall, but he saved it, and laughingly placed it in the row he was making, till, counting the while, he exclaimed-- "Twenty-three! Is that next one the last ?" "Yes," I said, as I pitched it to him and it was placed in the range upon the table.

"You were right." "Is there anything else ?" "Oh, yes," I said; "the box isn't half empty." I dived down and brought out next a long sword, more carefully wrapped, and in superior paper to those which had been previously taken out.
Then followed a squarish case or box in paper, and for a few moments we were undecided as to what it might be, concluding that it must be a pistol-case with a brace of superior weapons inside.
Still the chest was far from empty, and on continuing the unpacking I found that I was handing out short carbines, such as artillerymen or horse-soldiers would use.
"Twelve!" cried Bigley, who was growing more and more excited.