ssiveness. Even Bert Dodge, who covertly scanned Prescott
from a distance, could not guess the outcome of the "grilling."

"May I ask, Colonel, weather you agree with my opinion of Mr.
Prescott?" inquired Captain Bates.

"Your idea that he is an artful dodger?"

"Yes, sir."

"If he is," replied Lieutenant Colonel Strong, "then the young
man is so very straightforwardly artful that he is likely to give
us a mountain of mischief to handle before he is brought to book."

"If I can catch him at anything by fair means," ventured Captain
Bates, "then I am going to do it."

"You are suspicious of Mr. Prescott?"

"Why, I like the young man thoroughly, sir; but I believe that,
if we do not find a means of curbing him, this summer's encampment
will be a season of unusual mischief and sly insubordination."

Perhaps there was something of a twinkle in Colonel Strong's eye
as he rose to leave the tent.

"If you do catch Mr. Prescott, Bates, I shall be interested in
knowing the particulars promptly."

Dick returned to his tent to find his bunkies gone to drills.
The summons before the O.C. had relieved Prescott from the first
period of drill.

On Dick's wardrobe box lay two letters that the mail orderly had
left for him.

Both bore the Gridley postmark. The home-hungry cadet pounced
upon both of them, seating himself and examining the handwriting
of the addresses.

One letter was from his mother. Cadet Prescott opened that first.
It was a lengthy letter. The young man ran through the pages
hurriedly, to make sure that all was well with his parents.

Now Dick held up the other letter. This also was addressed in
a feminine hand---as most of a cadet's mail is. It was a small,
square envelope, without crest or monogram, but the paper and
cut were scrupulously good and fine. It was the kind of stationery
that would be used by girl brought up in a home of refined
surroundings.

Dick broke the seal with a consciousness of a little thrill that
he had not felt in opening his mother's letter. Dick did not
have to look for the signature; he knew the penmanship.

"My Dear Mr. Prescott," began the letter. ("Hm!" muttered the
reader. "It used to be 'Dick'")

"Your note came as a delightfully pleasant surprise," Dick read
on ("Now, I wonder why it should have been a surprise? Great
Scott! Now, I come to think of it, I hadn't written her before
since last February!")

"Of course we are going to drop all other pl