again and
fumbling about in his alcove. His room-mate sleepily inquires from
beyond the partition what he wants in the dark, but is too long
accustomed to his vagaries to expect definite information. When Mr.
McKay slips softly out into the hall, after careful _reconnaissance_ of
the guard-house windows, his chum is soundly asleep and dreaming of no
worse freak on Billy's part than a raid around barracks.

It is so near graduation that the rules are relaxed, and in every first
classman's room the tailor's handiwork is hanging among the gray
uniforms. It is a dark suit of this civilian dress that Billy dons as
he emerges from the blankets. A natty Derby is perched upon his curly
pate, and a _monocle_ hangs by its string. But he cannot light his gas
and arrange the soft brown moustache with which he proposes to decorate
his upper lip. He must run into Stanley's,--the "tower" room, at the
north end of his hall.

Phil looks up from the copy of "Military Law" which he is diligently
studying. As "inspector of subdivision," his light is burned until
eleven.

"You _do_ make an uncommonly swell young cit, Billy," he says,
pleasantly. "Doesn't he, Mack?" he continues, appealing to his
room-mate, who, lying flat on his back with his head towards the light
and a pair of muscular legs in white trousers displayed on top of a pile
of blankets, is striving to make out the vacancies in a recent Army
Register. "Mack" rolls over and lazily expresses his approval.

"I'd do pretty well if I had my moustache out; I meant to get the start
of you fellows, but you're so meanly jealous, you blocked the game,
Stan."

All the rancor is gone now. He well knows that Stanley was right.

"Sorry to have had to 'row' you about that, Billy," says the captain,
gently. "You know I can't let one man go and not a dozen others."

"Oh, hang it all! What's the difference when time's so nearly up?"
responds McKay, as he goes over to the little wood-framed mirror that
stands on the iron mantel. "Here's a substitute, though! How's this for
a moustache?" he asks, as he turns and faces them. Then he starts for
the door. Almost in an instant Stanley is up and after him. Just at the
head of the iron stairs he hails and halts him.

"Billy! You are not going out of barracks?"

Unwillingly McKay yields to the pressure of the firm hand laid on his
shoulder, and turns.

"Suppose I were, Stanley. What danger is there? Lee inspected last
night, and even he woul