achers might come in, and how should I account for your
presence here?"

"In any way you please. I am not particular. Hold on a bit," said Dick,
as Marcy tried to take the colors from his hand. "I must have your
promise first. You must say, in so many words, that you will not attempt
to hoist it in the morning, and further, that you will not let anyone
know I gave it to you. A certain fellow wants to shove it in the
stove--"

"That's my cousin," interrupted Marcy.

"And another wants to show it to his girl, who told him to-day, in my
presence, that if he had the pluck she had given him credit for, the
colors would have come down long ago."

"That's Bob Cole," said Marcy.

"I was taught never to tell names, and tales, too. I knew that if I gave
the flag to either of those fellows I would never see it again. I have
marched and drilled under it for almost four years, and shouldn't like
to hear that it been abused in any way; but if you and I live to see the
end of the terrible times that I believe are coming upon us, I _should_
like to hear that it had been run up again. That's why I am going to
give it to you; but I must have your promise first."

"It's a bargain, and there's my hand on it," answered Marcy, without
hesitation. "That flag shall never go up to the top of the academy staff
again if I can help it, and while I remain in this school I'll never say
you gave it to me. Now hand it over, so that I can hide it before
anybody comes in."

Dick was rather surprised at the promptness with which the required
promise was given. Almost without knowing it he handed Marcy the flag,
and saw him place it in his trunk and turn the key upon it.

"Say," he exclaimed, when he found his tongue, "what are you up to?"

"I am going to leave the flag there until I can think of some good
hiding-place for it," replied Marcy.

"That isn't what I mean, and you know it. I didn't think you would be so
very willing to make the promise, and I am afraid there is something
back of it."

"I have said all you asked me to say, have I not? Well, I assure you I
shall remember it, for I am not in the habit of breaking my word. The
next time these colors float it will be in a breeze that is untainted by
any secession rag, I bet you. Then, whether you are living or dead, I
shall think of you, Dick. You and I have always been friends and I know
we shall continue to be so, no matter where we are or what flag waves
over us."

"You don't owe