digging in a trench with all his might and main.

CHAPTER X

THE CURE FOR PLEBE ANIMAL SPIRITS

So the weeks slipped by.

Up at five in the morning, busy most of the time until six in
the evening, the cadets of the first, third and fourth classes
found ample time to enjoy themselves between dark and taps, at
10.30, except when guard duty or something else interfered.

Much of the "idle" time through the day was spent in short naps,
to make up for that short six hours and a half of regular night
sleep.

Yet all the young men seemed to thrive in their life of hard work
and outdoor air.

Hazing was proceeding merrily, so far as some of the yearlings
were concerned. Perhaps half of the class in all engaged in two
or more real hazings through the summer. A few of the third classmen
became almost inveterate hazers.

But Dick Prescott, true to the principles had stated at the beginning
of the encampment, hazed a plebe only when he believed it to be
actually necessary in order to keep properly down some bumptious
new man.

Dodge returned from hospital after a very short stay there. Word
had spread through the camp. Though Dodge, who admitted frankly
that his thrashing had been deserved, managed to keep a few friends,
but was avoided by most of the yearlings. Since he had taken his
medicine so frankly, he was not, however, "cut."

One afternoon, when Dick had been dozing on his mattress for about
ten minutes, during a period of freedom from drill, the tent flap
rustled, and Yearling Furlong looked in.

"What is it?" called Dick.

"Sorry if I've roused you, old ramrod," murmured the caller.

"That's all right, Milesy. Come in and rest yourself. You won't
mind if I keep flat, will you?

"Not in training for sick report?" asked Furlong, glancing down
solicitously. But he saw the glow of robust health glowing through
the deep coat of tan on Prescott's face.

"My appetite doesn't resemble sick report," laughed Dick. "But,
while you don't really look ill, Milesy, it's very plain that
you have something serious on your mind. Out with it!

"I guess that will make me feel better," assented Furlong, with
a sigh. "It's all that little plebe beast, Mr. Briggs."

"Surely he hasn't been hazing you?" inquired Prescott, opening
his eyes very wide.

"No, no; not just that, old ramrod," replied Furlong. "But Mr.
Briggs is proving a huge disappointment to me. I've done my best
to make a meek and lowly