o with your time?"

"Work!"

"What beastly old rot the Army is!" murmured Algy, lying back in his
easy chair and blowing a cloud of smoke toward the ceiling.

Rap-tap! sounded at the door.

"Come in," called Algy. It was Lieutenant Holmes who entered.

"Howdy-do, Ferrers?" he hailed the new officer. "I heard Prescott was
here and came to find him. You'll pardon me, won't you?"

"Nothing to pardon," murmured Algy.

"Old ramrod," began Lieutenant Holmes, turning to his chum and
addressing him by the old West Point nickname, "I came to see you about
your pet. He seems to be in increasing trouble."

"Who's my pet!" demanded Prescott in surprise.

"Why, Corporal Overton, of your company."

"Corporal Overton is not my pet, and you'll greatly oblige me by not
referring to him again in that fashion, Holmesy," returned the young
lieutenant almost stiffly. "Corporal Overton is a mighty fine young
soldier, and a good soldier never needs to be his officer's pet; he can
stand on his own merits. But what's the trouble with Overton? Is he
still absurdly suspected of relieving that simpleton Green of his
money?"

"Yes; there's a strong drift of suspicion that way among the men of B
Company."

"The idiots!" muttered Prescott impatiently.

"One of my sergeants has just been telling me about Overton's present
standing in the company. B Company men have always liked Overton. In
fact, he has been well liked all through the battalion, but just now
many of the men don't feel sure about the young fellow," continued
Lieutenant Holmes. "Not a man will admit that the case is proved, but a
good many of them don't like the looks of things. Especially are the men
disturbed by the fact of that revolver being in Corporal Overton's bed,
and the fact of his being awake and appearing nervous when the alarm was
given."

"Greg, you don't believe Overton stole that simpleton soldier's cash?"
cried Prescott.

"I don't, and I won't," Lieutenant Holmes replied. "Overton isn't that
type of fellow. He's a soldier all the way through, going and coming,
and the first characteristic of a real soldier is honesty."

"Yet you say so many of the men suspect him?" mused Prescott.

"Not exactly that they suspect him, but that they'd like to have the
whole matter cleared up and see daylight through it."

"From what I know of soldiers," remarked Lieutenant Prescott
thoughtfully, "it looks like a mean mess for Overton. Really, nothing
but long time,