nlisted
men's mess, near barracks.

"Attention!" roared one waggish soldier.

As by instinct the men in the room stood at attention.

"Two new young generals are honoring us this morning," grinned the wag.

"Throw him out!" growled a sergeant. "It's bad enough to be a rookie
without having it rubbed in."

The first sergeant now gave the seating order, and the men fell in at
table. The wag sat at Noll's left.

"I find I'm mistaken," called the wag, down the table. "Our guests are
only colonels."

"You'll be a general, one of these days, if you don't look out, Fowler,"
warned another soldier near by.

"The gypsies always told my mother I'd be a general," replied Fowler
complacently.

"Yes, a general prisoner," continued the soldier who had just warned the
wag.

This raised a prompt laugh, for, in the Army, a "general prisoner" is
one who is serving a term of confinement after sentence by a general
court-martial.

"There are generals, and generals, of course," admitted Fowler.

"There'd be a general famine, Fowler, if you ever stopped talking at
mess long enough to do all the eating that your mouth calls for."

"How long have you young gentlemen been out of West Point?" asked
Fowler, turning to Noll.

Noll grinned, but did not make any answer to this question.

"I hope you are West Pointers," continued the company wag. "Nearly all
of the gentlemen present are West Pointers."

"Give the rooks time to eat their meal in comfort," ordered a sergeant
gruffly. "Have you forgotten the day, Fowler, when you were the greenest
rook that the Thirty-fourth ever had?"

"I never was a rook," retorted Fowler.

"You never got beyond being one," retorted a corporal. "Don't mind this
chin-bugler, lads. He doesn't know any better."

Hal was paying attention strictly to the meal before him. A good-sized
piece of steak and a dish of baked potatoes had come his way, and he
enjoyed them keenly. The men of this battalion had a first class
commissary officer and lived well.

"You've visiting cards with you, of course?" continued Fowler, after a
few moments.

"No," Noll admitted.

"Why, rook, you'll need cards. You've got to call on the K. O.
(commanding officer) after breakfast. But we'll fix you out. I'll lend
you my pack. The jack of clubs is the one you want to send in to the K.
O. Then he'll know 'tis a husky lad that has honored the Thirty-fourth
by joining."

"You'll live most of the time at the guard-house, i