an Furlong.

"The chair calls you to order!" interrupted Dick sternly.

"Will the chair kindly explain the point of order?"

"It is out of order to make any distinction between the chair
and 'gentlemen.'"

"I yield to the---the pride of the chair," agreed Furlong, with
a comical bow. "Mr. Chairman and other gentlemen, the question
that I wish to put is-----"

Cadet Furlong now paused, glancing solemnly about him before he
continued:

"What are we going to do with the plebes?"

Dick dropped his tone of presiding officer as he answered:

"I take it, Miles---pardon me, _Furlong_, that your question really
means, what are we going to do to the plebes?"

"Same thing," contended the other yearling.

"Why should we do anything to them?" asked Dick gravely.

"Why should we---say, did you hear the man?" appealed Furlong,
looking around him despairingly at the other yearlings. "Why
should we do anything to the plebes? And yet, in a trusting moment,
we elected old ramrod to be president of the class! Why should
we---o-o-o-o-h!"

Cadet Furlong made a gurgling sound in his throat, as though he
were perishing for lack of air.

"Prescott isn't serious," hinted Griffin.

"Yes, I am," contended Dick, half stubbornly. "Griffin, what
did you think of yearlings---last year?"

"What I thought, last year," retorted Cadet Griffin, "doesn't
much matter now. Then I was an ignorant, stupid, unregenerate,
unsophisticated, useless, worthless and objectionable member of
the community. I hadn't advanced far enough to appreciate the
very exalted position that a yearling holds by right."

"We now know, quite well," broke in Dobbs, "that it is a yearling's
sacred and bounden duty to lick a plebe into shape in the shortest
possible order. Though it never has been done, and never can be
done inside of a year," he finished with a sigh.

"Do you seek words of wisdom from your class president?" Cadet
Prescott inquired.

"Oh, yes, wise and worthy sir!" begged Furlong.

"Then this is almost the best that I can think of," Dick went
on. It will never be possible to stamp out wholly the hazing
of plebes at West Point. But we fellows can make a new record,
if we will, by frowning on all severe and needless forms of hazing.
I had the reputation of getting a lot of hazing last year, didn't I?"

"You surely did, old ramrod," murmured Furlong sympathetically.
"At times, then, my heart ached for you, but now, with my increased
int