bjected Dick.

"It's good of you to be so thoughtful for that fellow Cameron,"
jibed Greg.

"I'm not thoughtful for him, but for Laura," retorted Prescott
staunchly.

"Confound it," growled Greg to himself, "Dick is such a stickler
for the girl's rights that he is likely to break her heart. Hanged
if I don't try to set Laura straight myself, when I see her!
No; I won't either, though. Dick would never forgive me if I
butted into his own dearest affairs."

"I know, Greg," Prescott pursued presently, "that some of the
fellows do become engaged to, girls while still at the Military
Academy. But becoming engaged to marry a girl is a mighty serious
thing."

"Then I'm in for it," muttered Holmes soberly. "I'm engaged to
the third girl."

"What?" gasped his chum incredulously. "You engaged to three
girls?"

"Oh, only one at a time," Greg assured his comrade. "The first
two girls, each in turn, asked to be released, after we'd been
engaged for a while. So, now, I'm engaged to my third girl."

Holmes spoke seriously, and with evident truth. Dick leaned back,
staring curiously at his chum, though he did not ask the latest
girl's name.

"At least, I was engaged, at latest accounts," Greg went on, after
a few moments. "By the time I reach West Point, just as likely
as not, I'll get a letter asking me to consider the matter as past
history only."

"Greg, Greg!" muttered Prescott, shaking his head gravely. "I'm
afraid you're not very constant.

"I?" retorted Cadet Holmes indignantly. "Dick, you're harboring
the wrong idea. It's the girls who are not constant. Though
they were all nice little bits of femininity," Greg added
reminiscently in a tone of regret.

Late in the afternoon the chums arrived in New York. After putting
up at a hotel they had time for dinner and a stroll.

"Somehow, I don't feel very sporty tonight," sighed Cadet Holmes,
as they waited, at table, for the evening meal to be served.
"Yet, in a week, I suppose I'll be kicking myself. For tomorrow
we're due to get back into our gray habits and re-enter the military
convent life up the river."

After a late supper and a short night's rest, the two young men
found themselves, the morning following, on a steamboat bound up
the Hudson River.

"After all these weeks of good times," muttered Greg, "it doesn't
seem quite real."

"It will, in a couple of hours," predicted Prescott, smiling.
"And, now that home is so far behind, I'm re