"Oh, it will be all right. There are a lot of fellows that I'm eager to see" Greg admitted.

"Is the—-er—-er——-"

"Out with it!"

"Is Miss Number Three likely to be at the Point when we get there?"

"I don't know," Holmes admitted. "I haven't heard from her in four days. I hope she'll be there."

All in due time the two cadets worked their way forward on the boat. Now they encountered nearly a dozen other members of their class, all returning. Yet none of the dozen were among their warmest friends in class life.

"Look, fellows!" cried Dick at last. "There's just a glimpse of some of the high spots of West Point through the trees!"

It was all well enough for the cadets to claim that the life at West Point was a fearfully hard and dull grind, and that they were little better than cadet slaves. As they picked out, one after another, familiar glimpses of West Point, these young men became mostly silent, though their eyes gleamed eagerly. They loved the good old gray academy! They rejoiced to find themselves so near, and going back!

Then at last the boat touched at the pier. Some moments before the gangplank was run aboard from the wharf everyone of the more than dozen cadets had already leaped ashore.

"Whoop!" yelled Greg, tossing his hat in the air.

"Mr. Holmes!" growled Cadet Dennison with mock severity. "Report yourself for unmilitary enthusiasm!"

"Yes, sir," responded Greg meekly, saluting: his fellow classman.

"Fall in!" yelled Dennison.

"Where?" inquired Dick innocently. "In the Hudson? I decline, sir, to obey an illegal order."

Amid a good deal of laughter the returning cadets trudged across the road, over the railroad tracks and on up the steep slope that led to the administration building.

Across the inner court of the administration building walked the second classman briskly, and on up the stairs. There was no more laughter. Even the talking was in most subdued tones, for these young men were going back to duty—-military duty at that!

In one of the outer offices on the second floor the cadets left their suit cases.

Dick, being one of those in the lead, stepped into the adjutant's room, brought his heels together, and in the position of the soldier, saluted.

"Sir, I report my return to duty at the Military Academy."

"Very good, Mr. Prescott. Report to the special officer in charge at the cadet guard house, and receive your assignment to your room. The special officer in charge will give you any further immediate orders that may be necessary."

Again saluting, Prescott wheeled with military precision and left the adjutant's office. As he was going out Dick was passed by Greg coming in.

For a moment Prescott waited outside until Greg had joined him.

"It would be a howling mess if we didn't have a room together this year, old ramrod, wouldn't it?" muttered Cadet Holmes as soon as they were clear of the administration building.

"Oh, that isn't one of our likely troubles," Dick answered. "We asked for a room together, and second classmen generally have what we want in that line."

On reporting to the special officer in charge, the two chums found that they had been given quarters together. Moreover, their room was one of the best assigned to second classman, and looked out over the plain and parade ground.

"We ought to be jolly happy in here this year, old ramrod," predicted Greg. "Especially as we haven't any fellow like Dodge in the class."

"Nor in the whole Military Academy," rejoined Prescott.

"I hope not," murmured Cadet Holmes thoughtfully.

Boys at boarding school would have needed at least the rest of the day to get themselves to rights. Trained to soldierly habits, our two cadets had quickly dropped the furlough life. Citizen clothes, in dress-suit cases, were deposited at the cadet store, and the two cadets, back in "spooniest" white duck trousers and gray fatigue blouses, were soon speeding along the roads that led across the plain to where the other three classes were having their last day of summer encampment.

"Greetings, old ramrod!" called a low but pleasant voice, as First Classman Brayton hurried up, grasping Dick's hand. Then Greg came in for a hearty shake. Brayton, who had been a cadet corporal when the two boys from Gridley were plebes, now wore the imposing chevrons of a cadet captain.

"My, but I'm glad to see you two idlers return to a fair measure of work," laughed another voice, and Spurlock, whom Dick, as a plebe, had thrashed, pushed his right hand into the ceremonies. Spurlock, too, was a cadet captain. Other first classmen crowded in for these returning furlough men were popular throughout the upper classes.

"May a wee, small voice make itself heard?"

Dick and Greg half wheeled to meet another comer. Little Briggs, a trifle less plump and correspondingly longer, stood before them, grinning almost sheepishly.

"Hullo, Briggsy!" cried Prescott, extending his hand, which the third classman took with unusual warmth.

"Being no longer a plebe, I enjoy the great pleasure able to address an upper classman before I'm addressed," went on Briggs.

"That's so, Briggsy," affirmed Greg.

Before going off on their furlough both had been compelled to regard Briggs as an unfortunate plebe, with whom it was desirable to have as little to do as possible. Then it had been "Mr. Briggs"; now it was "Briggsy"; that much had the round little fellow gained by stepping up from the fourth class to the third.

"Have you found any b.j. beasts among the new plebes, Briggsy!" Dick wanted to know.

"Plenty of 'em," responded Briggs with enthusiasm.

"Any that were b.j.-er than Mr. Briggs?" inquired Greg.

A shade annoyance crossed the new yearling's face.

"I never was b.j., was I?" he murmured.

"Think!" returned Dick dryly. "However, you're Briggs, now, with all my heart—-no longer 'mister.'"

"We've had a busy, busy summer," murmured Briggs, "licking the new beasts into shape."

Greg laughed heartily at memory of some of the hazing stunts through which he had once helped to rush Briggs.

Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs, of the second class, hurried over to greet Prescott and Holmes.

"Where's Anstey?" Dick inquired.

"Not back yet, I'm sure," replied Briggs.

"Oh, well, he'll be back before the day's over," Dick went on confidently. "That youth from Virginia is much too good a soldier to fail to report on time."

Soon after the instruction parties of the first, third and fourth classes came marching back into camp. It seemed, indeed, like old times, to see the fellows all rushing off to their tents to clean up and change uniforms before the dinner call sounded.

Then the call for dinner formation came. Dick and Greg fell in, in their old company, and marched away at the old, swinging soldier tread.

Most of the afternoon the returned furlough men spent in their new rooms. During that afternoon Anstey pounced in upon them. The Virginian said little, as usual, but the length and fervor of the handclasp that he gave Dick and Greg was enough.

With evening came the color-line entertainment. Dick and Anstey walked on the outskirts of the throng of visitors.

Cadet Holmes, having discovered that the especial girl to whom he was at present betrothed was not at West Point, played the casual gallant for a fair cousin of Second Classman McDermott.

The night went out in a blaze of color, illumination and fireworks just before taps. In the morning the cadet battalion marched back into barracks, and on the morning after that the daily grind began in the grim old academic building.

Cadets Prescott and Holmes were thus fairly started on their third year at West Point. There was a tremendous grind ahead of them, the very grind was becoming vastly easier, two years of the hard life at West Point taught them how to study.



CHAPTER X

THE SCHEME OF THE TURNBACK

"I must be getting back to my room," murmured Anstey. "I haven't had a demerit so far this year, and I don't want to begin."

"If you must go, all right," replied Dick, though he added, with undoubted heartiness:

"Whether in or out of proper hours, Anstey, your visits are always too short."

"Thank you, old man," replied the Virginian gratefully.

The time had worn along into October. During the first month of academic work, neither Dick nor Greg had stood as high in their class as they had wished. This is often the case with new second classmen, who have just returned from all the allurements and excitements of their furloughs.

"Are you studying very hard, Anstey?" asked Greg, turning around, as the Virginian entered the door.

"Not very," drawled the Virginian. "I never did like haste and rush. I'm satisfied if I get through. I did hope to stand high enough to get into the cavalry, but now I think I'm going to be pleased if I get the doughboy's white trousers stripe."

The "doughboy" is an infantryman.

"I think I'm going to find it all easy enough, now, after I once get my gait. Thank goodness, we're past the daily math. grind."

"We'll all find plenty of math. in its application to other studies," sighed Prescott. "But what gets me is for an Army officer to have to be roundly coached in philosophy, as regards sound and light."

"And chemistry," groaned Greg, "with heat, mineralogy, geology and electricity. And how the instructors can draw out on the points that a fellow hasn't been able to get through his head!"

"Don't!" begged the Virginian. "It makes my temples throb. I've written mother, asking her to send me some headache powders. Unless our third-year science instructors let up on us, I see myself eating headache powders like candy."

As Anstey turned the knob, and started to go out, another cadet, about to enter, pushed door open and stepped inside.

"Howdy fellows," was the greeting of the newcomer.

"How do you do, Haynes?" asked Dick, though not over impressed by the newcomer.

Haynes was a former second classman, who, on account of illness in the latter half of his third year, had been allowed to "turn back" and join the new second class.

It often happens that a "turnback" is not extremely popular with the new class that he joins. Not less often does it happen that the turnback wonders at the comparative lack of esteem shown him. The reason, however, is very likely to be found in the fact that the turnback considers himself a mile or so above the new class members with whom circumstances have compelled him to cast his lot.

It was so in this instance. Haynes felt that he was, properly, a first classman. True, the members of the first class, which he had fallen behind, did not take that view of the case.

"You fellows busy?" asked Haynes, as he took a seat across the foot of Prescott's cot bed.

"Oh, no more busy than cadets usually are," smiled Dick pleasantly. "We are finding the new grind a hard one—-that's all."

"Now, there's nothing very hard about the first half of the year in this class," replied Haynes knowingly. "I've been through it you know."

"You're lucky," rejoined Greg. "We haven't been through it—-yet."

Hayes, however, chose to regard what was meant as a slight hint.

"Don't bone too hard at this first-term stuff, fellows," he went on. "Save your energies for the second half of the academic year."

"I wonder whether we shall have any energies left by that time," replied Greg, opening one of his text-books in philosophy with a force that made the cover bang against the desk.

"Oh, go ahead and bone 'sound,' then, if you want," permitted Mr. Haynes. "I'll talk to Prescott. Old ramrod, I haven't seen you at any of the hops this year."

"Haven't had a femme to drag," replied Dick, as he picked up a sheet of notes and began to scan it.

"Why don't you turn pirate, then, as I do," yawned Haynes, "and get the fellows to write you down on the cards they're making up for their femmes?"

"I hadn't thought of that," replied Dick. "I don't believe, when I have no femme to drag to the hops, that it would make me any more popular with the fellows, either. A fellow who pirates at all should drag a spoony femme pretty often himself."

"Why," asked Hayes, opening his eyes rather wide, "are you boning bootlick with any but officers?"

"Boning bootlick" means to curry favor. Occasionally a cadet who wants cadet honors resorts to "boning bootlick" with the tactical officers stationed at the academy.

"I'm not boning bootlick with cadets or with officers either," retorted Dick rather crisply.

"I've never had the delight of wearing chevrons, you know."

Haynes flushed a trifle. The year before he had worn a sergeant's chevrons. This year, for some reason, he did not have the chevrons.

"Wearing chevrons isn't the only sign of bootlick," replied Haynes.

"Is it one of them?" smiled Prescott good-humoredly.

Again Haynes flushed. He had meant to take down this new member of the second class, but found Prescott's tongue too ready.

"I don't know," replied Haynes shortly. "I've never been one of the authorities on bootlick."

"Nor I, either," laughed Prescott quietly. "So we won't be able to come to the point of any information on the subject, I'm afraid."

Greg, with his back turned to the visitor as he bent over the study desk, had been frowning for some time. Holmes wanted to study; he knew how badly he needed the time. But Haynes showed no sign of leaving the room.

Suddenly, Holmes closed his book, perhaps with a trifle more noise than was necessary.

"What you going to do, Greg?" inquired his chum, as Cadet Holmes rose stiffly, holding himself very erect in his natty gray uniform.

"I believe I'll get out for a while," replied Greg. "I—-I really want to think a little while."

"Oh, I'll go, if you say so," volunteered Cadet Haynes, though without offering to rise.

"Not necessary," replied Greg briefly, and stepped over to the door, which he next closed—-from the outside.

"Your roommate cocky?" asked Haynes, with a short laugh.

"Holmes!" inquired Dick. "One of the best fellows in the world."

"Guess he didn't want visitors, then," grinned: Haynes. "He's a chump to bone hard all the time. Really, Prescott, you don't get any further with an excess of boning."

"I always try to get as high in my class as I can," sighed Dick. "True, that has never been extremely high yet. But a fellow wants to be well up, so he can spare a few numbers, in case anything happens, you know."

"I'd just as soon be anywhere above the three fellows at the bottom of the Glass," replied Haynes, stifling another yawn.

"Well, I hope you at least attain to your ambitions in the matter," replied Dick, regretfully eyeing two of his text-books that he wanted to dig into in turn. There was not a heap of study time left now, before the call came for supper formation.

"My ambitions run along different lines," announced Haynes.

"Along different lines than class standing?" inquired Dick.

"Yes; if you mean the kind of class standing that comes from the academic board," went on Haynes.

"Why, I didn't know there was any other kind, except standing in drill, and believe nearly all of the men here stand well in drill."

"Oh, there are some other kinds," pursued Haynes. "Personal standing, for instance?"

"Thank heaven personal standing is rather easily reached here," replied Dick. "All a fellow has to do is to be courteous and honorable and his personal standing just about takes care of itself."

"Oh, there are some other little matters in personal standing. Take the class presidency, Prescott, for instance."

"Yes?" queried Dick. "What about it?"

"Well, you've been president of your class for two years."

"Yes; thanks to the other fellows of the class."

"Now, Prescott, do you intend to go right along keeping the presidency of the class?"

"Why, yes; if the fellows don't show me that they want a change."

"Maybe they do," murmured Haynes.

Dick wheeled and regarded the turnback rather sharply.

"You must mean something by that, Haynes. What do you mean?"

"Are you willing to resign, if the class wants someone else?"

"Of course," replied Prescott, with a snap.

"I'm glad to hear you say that," murmured Haynes.

"See here, Haynes, have you been sent here by any faction in the second class?"

"No," admitted the turnback promptly.

"Have you heard any considerable expression of opinion on the subject of a new class president being desired."

"No," admitted Haynes, coloring somewhat under the close scrutiny of his comrade in the class and the corps.

"You're speaking for yourself only?"

"That's it," assented the turnback.

"Why don't you want me for class president?"

Cadet Haynes looked a trifle disconcerted, but it was always Dick's way to go openly and directly to the point in any matter.

"Why, perhaps I don't know just how to put it," replied Haynes. "But see here, Prescott, wouldn't it be better for any class—-say the second class, for instance—-to have a man as president who has been longer at the Military Academy than the other members of the class?"

"Do you mean," pursued Dick relentlessly, "that you want to be elected president of the present second class, Haynes?"

"Why, I think it would be a nice little courtesy from the class," admitted the turnback. "You see, Prescott, you've held the honor now for two years."

Dick smiled, looking straight into the eyes of his visitor, but he made no other answer.

"Now, what do you think about it, Prescott?" insisted the turnback.

"I don't like to tell you, Haynes."

"But I wish you would."

"You'd be offended."

"No; I would—-See here not trying to be offensive with me, are you?"

"Certainly not."

"Oh, that's all right then. Go ahead and tell me what you think."

"I was a good deal astonished," went on Prescott, "when back in plebe days, the other fellows chose me for their president. I wasn't expecting it, and I didn't know what to make of it. But the fellows of the class gave me that great honor. I stand ready to step down from the honor at any time when the class feels that it would like another president."

"I'd like the honor, Prescott. But, of course, I didn't know that you held to it so earnestly. If you don't want to give it up, of course I'll go slow in asking you to do so. But I thought that both you and the class would appreciate having as president a man who has been longer at the Military Academy than any of the others."

"If I were to resign the presidency," replied Prescott bluntly, "I don't believe you'd stand a ghost of a show of getting it."

Cadet Haynes sprang to his feet, cheeks crimson, his eyes flashing.

"Why not?" he insisted.

"Steady, now," urged Dick. "Don't take offence where none is meant, Haynes. The class would want its president to be one who has been with the class all along, and who knows all its traditions. Now, in experience, you're a first classman, and you've all the First-class traditions. Now, if the class were dissatisfied with me, and wanted a new president, I'm pretty certain the fellows would choose someone who had been in our class from the start. Now with you a turnback——-"

Haynes's flush deepened, and he took a step forward, his fists clenching.

"Prescott, do you use that word offensively?"

"No," replied Dick quietly. "Do you intend your question or manner to be offensive?"

"Not unless you're trying to start it," sniffed the other cadet.

"I'll tell you what I'll do, Haynes," proposed Dick pleasantly. "I can see your point of view—-from your side. I don't believe it would be the view of the class. But, if you wish, I'll call a class meeting and lay the whole proposition before them."

"You mean that you'll try out class feeling by resigning and suggesting me for your successor?" asked Haynes eagerly.

"No; I'll state the substance of our conversation this afternoon, and then you can say any thing you may have to say on the subject. Then I will put it to the class whether they want me to resign so that you can be elected in my place."

Haynes turned several shades more red.

"That would make a fool of me!" flashed the turnback.

"It would be a statement of your own proposition, wouldn't it?" asked Dick, with another smile.

"Stop your laughing at me, you——-"

"Careful!" warned Dick, but he threw a lot of emphasis into the single word.

"Prescott," choked the turnback, "you're trying to make my idea and myself ridiculous!"

"Haven't I stated your proposition fairly?" challenged Prescott. "You think that, because you are a turnback, you have more right than I to the class presidency. If that isn't your attitude, then I shall be glad to apologize."

"Oh, pshaw, there's no use in trying to make you see the matter with my eyes," muttered Haynes in disgust.

"I'm afraid not, Haynes. If the fellows don't want me as president I would insist on resigning. But I am sure the class would rather have almost anyone than a turnback. I hope, however, there is no hard feeling?"

Prescott held out his right hand frankly.

"I hope there will be, as you say, no hard feeling," mumbled Haynes, accepting the proffered hand weakly.

Then the turnback left the room. Down the corridor, however, he strode heavily, angrily, muttering to himself:

"The conceited puppy!"



CHAPTER XI

BRAYTON MAKES A BIG APPEAL

For a moment or two Dick stood looking out of his window, across the far-stretching plain that included the parade ground and the athletic field.

In the near distance the football squad was finishing up its practice in the last moments of daylight. Brayton was captain of the Army eleven, and was a good deal discouraged.

"Queer idea Haynes had!" muttered Dick to himself.

Then he turned back to his desk and to the neglected chapter on "Sound" in natural philosophy.

Dick, however, was not fated to study much.

First of all, back came Greg, opening the door and looking in inquiringly.

"Haynes has gone, I see," murmured Cadet Holmes.

"Yes."

"To stay away?"

"I rather think so," nodded Cadet Prescott, without looking up from the pages of his textbook.

"Then there'll be some show for a poor, hard-working goat," muttered Greg, closing the door behind him and falling into his chair.

"The goat," at West Point, is one who is in the lowest section or two of his class. Greg was not yet a "goat," this year, though he lived in dread of becoming one.

Hearing a yell from the plain beyond, however, Holmes went over to the window and looked out.

"Dick, old ramrod," exclaimed Cadet Holmes wistfully, "I wish we stood well enough to be out on the football grill."

"So do I," muttered Dick. "But what's the with the goat section overtaking us at double time?"

Greg sighed, then went back to his books.

For fifteen or twenty minutes both young men read on, trying to fasten something of natural philosophy in their minds.

Now there came a quick knock, immediately after which the door was flung open and Brayton marched in.

"See here, you coldfeet," began the captain of the Army eleven sternly, "what do you two mean by staying in here and boning dry facts?"

"Just to avoid being drowned in goat's milk," smiled Dick, turning a page and looking up.

Brayton, regardless of these heroic efforts to study, threw one leg across the corner of the study table.

"You two fellows came out, in the first work of the squad, and did stunts that filled us all with hope," pursued Brayton severely. "Then, suddenly, you failed to show up any more. And all this, despite the fact that we have the poorest eleven the Army has shown in six years."

"Only men well up in their academic work are allowed to play on the eleven, replied Dick.

"You fellows are well enough up to make the team."

"But we're nervous about our studies," rejoined Prescott.

"Nervous about your studies!" cried Brayton sharply. "Yet not a whit anxious for the honor of the Army that you hope to serve in all your lives. Now, you fellows know, as well as any of us, that we don't much mind being walked over by a crack college eleven. But we want to beat the Navy, year in and year out. Why, fellows, this year the Navy has one of the best elevens in its history. All the signs are that the middies are going to walk roughshod over us. And yet you two fellows, whom we need, are sulking in quarters, poring over books—-nervous about your studies!"

Scorn rang in Brayton's heavy tones.

"If I really thought you needed me——-" began Dick.

"Of course, if you did actually need two duffers like——-" broke in Cadet Holmes.

"Need you!" retorted Brayton. "I'm almost ashamed to be sitting here with two such cold-blooded duffers. But do you know why I'm here? Because Lieutenant Carney, our coach, told me to come here and actually beg you to turn out—-if I had to beg. Now, am I going to be submitted to that humiliation by two fellows I've always liked and considered my friends?"

"Is the football situation as bad as that?", asked Dick seriously.

"Bad?" repeated Brayton gloomily. "Man, it's rotten! Today is Thursday. Saturday we have to meet Lehigh. That's a team we can usually beat. Lieutenant Carney is so blue that I believe he'd like to compromise by giving Lehigh the game at a score of twelve to nothing! And the Navy! Think of the fun of having Annapolis strutting around with the Army scalp tied to an anchor!"

"If you really mean what you've been saying," said Dick slowly, "then we're going tomorrow afternoon. I'm taking the liberty of speaking for Greg."

"That's straight and correct," affirmed Holmes hastily.

"But I'm not sure, Brayton, that you'll find us such bang-up material as you appear to think."

"Oh, bother that!" cried the Football captain jubilantly. "I know what Lieutenant Carney can do with you. So, for the glory the Army, then, you'll come out, after this, and stand by us for the rest of the season?"

"For the glory of the Army, if we have anything to do with it," cried Dick heartily, "we'll 'fess' cold in every confounded study on the third-year list. For the glory of the Army we'll consent to being 'found' and kicked out of the service!"

"Hear, hear!" came rousingly from Cadet Holmes.

"Fellows—-thank you!" gasped Brayton, grasping both their hands and shaking them hard. "Lieutenant Carney will be delighted. So will all the fellows. Mr. Carney has had a hard, up-hill time of it as couch this year. But now—-!"

There could be no question that Brayton's joy was real. He was a keen judge of football material, and he had been deeply chagrined when Dick and Greg had withdrawn from the early training work of the squad.

"It has been fearful work trying get the interest up this year," continued Brayton with a reminiscent sigh. "So many good man have been dodging the squad! Even Haynes, who is the best we have at left end, ducked this afternoon. Caesar's ghost may know what Haynes was doing with his time—-I don't. But I don't believe he was boning."

Prescott smiled quietly to himself as he recalled how Cadet Haynes had been employing his leisure in this very room.

"Well, I'm happy, and Lieutenant Carney will be," muttered Brayton, turning to go. "A whole lot of us will feel easier."

"Any idea where you'll try to play us?" asked Dick, as the captain of the Army eleven rested his hand on the knob.

"Not much; we'll find out during tomorrow afternoon's practice. Be sharp on time, won't you?"

"If we're able to walk," promised Dick.

Just after Brayton had gone the orderly came through with mail.

"You got something, eh?" asked Greg.

"Yes; a letter from grand old Dave Darrin," cried Dick, as he broke the seal of the envelope.

"Let me know the news," begged Holmes.

"Whoop! Dave is on the Navy football team. So is Dan Dalzell! Both have gone in at the eleventh hour."

"Great Scott!" breathed Greg, rising to his feet. "I wonder if we're going to be placed on the line where we'll have to bump 'em in the Army-Navy game?"

"We may be, if we get on the line," uttered Prescott, as he finished the epistle. "Here, Greg, read it for yourself. That will be quicker than waiting for me to tell you the news from our old chums."

The next afternoon both Prescott and Holmes turned out on the gridiron practice work. Both proved to be in fine form. Lieutenant Carney, the Army coach, devoted most of his attention to them.

After some preliminary work the Army eleven was lined up against a "scrub" team of cadets.

"Mr. Prescott, go to left end on the team," directed Coach Carney. "Mr. Haynes, take the right end on scrub. Mr. Holmes, you will be left tackle on the Army team for this bit of work. The captains of both teams will now line their men up. Scrub will have the ball and make the kick-off. Make all the play brisk and snappy. Work for speed and strategy, not impact."

With that, Lieutenant Carney ran over to the edge of the gridiron, leaving another officer, of the coaching force, to officiate as referee.

The ball was placed in play. At the kick-off the ball came to Greg, who passed it to Dick. The interference formed, backed by Brayton.

"Put it around their right end!" growled Brayton, the word passing swiftly to Prescott.

Haynes was darting in, blood in his eye, backed the whole right flank of scrub.

Greg and the rest of the available interference got swiftly and squarely in the way of Haynes and the others. There was a scrimmage. Out of it, somehow—-none looking on could tell just how it was done—-Prescott emerged from the mix-up, darting swiftly to the left and around. He had made twenty-five yards with the ball Before he was nailed and downed.

Lieutenant Carney looked, as he felt, delighted. The spectators, all of them crazy for the Army's success, broke into yells of joy. Dick had done the spectacular part of the trick, but he could not have succeeded without the swift, intelligent help that Holmes had given. Playing together, they had sprung one of the clever ruses that both had perfected back in the old Gridley days.

Haynes was furious. He was panting. There was an angry flash in his eyes as both teams lined up for the snap-back.

"That fellow has come out into the field just to spite me," snarled Haynes to himself.

At the signal, the ball was snapped back, and passed swiftly to Dick. Haynes fairly leaped into the scrimmage, as though it were deadly hand-to-hand conflict. But Dick and Greg, with the backing of their comrades on the Army eleven, bore Haynes down to earth in the mad stampede that passed over him. Fifteen yards more were gained, and scrub's half-backs were feeling sore in body.

"That man Prescott is a wonder," muttered Lieutenant Carney to a brother officer of the Army. "Or else Holmes is. It's hard to say which of the pair is doing the trick. I think both of them are."

"How on earth, Carney, did you come to overlook that pair until now?"

"I didn't overlook them," retorted the Army coach. "I had them spotted when the training first began. But both dropped out on the claim that they feared for their standing in academy work."

"A pair like that," muttered Captain Courteney, "ought to be excused for any kind of recitations during the football season. Jove! Look at that—-Prescott has made a touchdown"

"Prescott carried the ball," amended Lieutenant Barney, "but Holmes certainly had as much to do with the touchdown as Prescott did."

"They're wonders!" cried Captain Courteney joyously. "And to think that you didn't have that pair out last year."

"Both refused even to think of going into training last year," retorted the Army coach. "Both were keen on the bone. But, bone or no bone, we've got to have them on the eleven the rest of this season."

By the time that the afternoon's practice was over fully fifty Army officers were on the sides, watching the work, for word had traveled by 'phone and the gathering had been a quick one.

"Prescott! Holmes!" called Brayton sharply, after the practice was over. "You'll play on the Army team tomorrow. Lieutenant Carney says so. Prescott, yours is left end; Holmesy, you'll expend your energies as left tackle. Haynes, you'll be in reserve, as a sub."

The message to Cadet Haynes was delivered without the suspicion of a snub in it. Almost any other man in the battalion would have accepted this wise decision without a murmur, delighted that the Army had found a better man.

Not so with Cadet Haynes. He turned cold all over. Not a word of reply did he offer, but turned on his heal, digging his fingernails into the palms of his hands.

"Now, what do you think of that?" demanded Haynes to himself. "Turned down for that fellow Prescott—-that shifty dodger and cheap bootlick! And I shook hands with you yesterday, Prescott! I never will again! Confound you, you turned out in togs at this late hour, just to put me out of the running!"



CHAPTER XII

IN THE BATTLE AGAINST LEHIGH

Before noon the next day Lehigh turned up—-team, subs., howlers and all, and as many as could crowded into the conveyances that had been sent down to the railway station to meet the team and coaches.

The cadet corps, busy to a man with Saturday morning recitations, did not see the arrival of the visiting team. But the Lehighs and the afternoon's game were the only topics for talk at dinner in the cadet mess hall.

"They've sent over a race of giants," growled Brayton down the length of the table at which he sat, while a poor little plebe cadet, acting as "gunner," was serving the roast beef. "Sergeant Brinkman, of the quartermaster's detachment, told me that the weight of the team sprung the axles on two of the stoutest quartermaster wagons. Every man that Lehigh sent over weighs a good part of a ton. What do you think of that, Prescott?"

"Glad enough to hear it," smiled Dick, nodding. "I believe it's the light, lithe, spry fellows who stand the best show of getting through the enemy's line."

"If all our smaller men were like you, I'd believe it, too, muttered Brayton.

"But we haven't any more light men like you and Holmes, Prescott," broke in Spurlock from the adjoining table.

"I'm going to duck the team and quit playing," protested Dick, "if Holmesy and I are to be twitted about being wonders."

"But, honestly, Prescott" began Brayton, "you two are——-"

"Average good Army men, I hope," interposed Dick. "Nothing more, I hope. At least. I speak for myself. If Holmesy wants to star——-"

"I'll call you out, ramrod, if you carry the joke too far!" warned Greg.

Seeing that both of the chums were in earned and didn't want to hear their merits sung, the others near them desisted. But, at many a table further removed, the whole trend of prediction was that, with Prescott and Holmes now definitely on the eleven, the Army stood its first chance of defeating Navy that year.

The Navy! It is the whole hope of West Point to send Annapolis down to defeat. The middies of the Navy on the other hand, can smile at many and many a defeat, provided the Army trails behind the Navy at the annual football game.

As the cadets marched out of mess hall and back along the sidewalk to barracks, those who allowed their gaze to stray ever so little across the roadway in the direction of the administration building noted that the holiday crowd had already begun to gather.

There were girls down from Vassar for the afternoon, and from half a dozen choice schools along the river. There were many out-of-town visitors from every direction.

We're going to three or four thousand people here to see the game," murmured Greg to Dick, in the undertone that cadets know so well how to use in ranks without being detected in conversing.

"Think so?" inquired Prescott.

"I'm sure of it."

In the groups that were strolling up and down the roads leading across the plain were young ladies whom many of the cadets wanted badly to see and exchange greetings with. First of all, however, Saturday afternoon inspection had to be gone through with. From this, not even the members of the Army football squad were privileged to be absent.

When inspection was over many of the cadets hastened forth for brief converse with popular fair ones.

None of the football men, however, had time for this. As soon as might be, they reported at the gymnasium, there to receive much counsel from coach and captain.

"Keep yourself in good shape, Haynes," called Dick, laughingly, when, after getting into togs, he met the turnback similarly attired.

"Going to funk?" asked Haynes rather disagreeably.

"Not intentionally, anyway," Dick smiled back at the "sore" one. "But I hear that we young Davids are going to be pitted against Goliaths this afternoon. It may be just my luck to go down in one of the scrimmages and get a furlough in hospital."

"I hope so!" muttered Haynes, but he said it under his breath.

Out over on the side lines officers and their families, and hordes of visitors, were filing toward the seats. Across at the east side of the gridiron, Lehigh's few hundred sympathizers were already bunched, and were making up with noise for their smallness of numbers.

Among the Army "boosters" the uniforms of the officers brightened the picture.

From time to time squads or detachments of cadets arrived and passed along to the seats reserved for them in the center.

Below the cadets, the band was stationed, and was already playing lively airs.

Out ahead of the band stood a megaphone on a tripod. This was to be used, later on, by the cheer-master, one of the cadets, who must call for the yells or the songs that were to be given. A rousing cheer ascended from the Lehigh seats when the visiting college team trotted out on the field. Hearty, courteous applause from the Army seats also greeted the visitors. The band played as soon as the first Lehighs were seen coming on to the field.

"Team fall in!" shouted Brayton, at last "Substitutes to the rear. Forward!"

Out of the gym. stepped these young champions of the Army. Across the roadway they strode, then broke into a trot as they reached the edge of the field.

And now a mighty cheer arose. Yesterday, the Army's friends had feared a defeat, but now word had gone the rounds that Prescott and Holmes had made the team strong in its weakest spot, and that a cyclonic game might be looked for.

For the next few minutes the Army eleven indulged in practice plays and kicks. During this period, the cheer-master cadets and the corps of cadets were busied with the various Army yells and songs that promised victory for the young soldiers.

Nor were the Lehigh "boosters" anything like idle. Every time an Army cheer ceased, the Lehigh sympathizers cheered their own team.

Then game was called, with kick-off for the Army.

The ball was passed to Lehigh's right end, who, full of steam, dashed on with it.

Dick and Greg were foremost in the obstruction that met the Lehigh runner. But the Lehigh man was well supported. Through Dick, Greg and Ellerson dashed the runner, backed splendidly by his interference.

It took quarterback and one of the halfbacks of the Army to put the runner down some eight yards further on.

"Humph! I don't see that Prescott and Holmes are doing so much for us," muttered Haynes to the sub. at his right, as both watched from the side lines.

"Look at what they have to stop," returned the other cadet. "Don't be sore, Haynes; you couldn't do any better.

"Humph!" grumbled the turnback.

It soon developed, however, that Lehigh felt especially strong on its right end. Hence, much of the work seemed to devolve upon Dick and Greg. For twenty yarns down into Army territory that ball was forced. Then, after a gain of only two more yards, Lehigh was forced to surrender the ball. Army boosters stood up and cheered loudly.

"You've got a tough crowd to get by, Prescott," muttered Brayton. "But look out for signals."

As Brayton bent over to snap-back, Quarterback Boyle's cool voice sounded:

"Fourteen—-eight—-nine—-three!"

In another instant Boyle had made a running pass with the ball to Greg, who passed it on to Dick Prescott.

Now all the Army boosters were up in their seats, eager to see how the much-lauded Prescott would serve with the pigskin.

Ball clasped, head down, Dick settled for a run, his whole gaze on the on-coming Lehigh right line.

They met in a clash. Dick had planned how to slip out of the impact, but the stronger Lehigh right end had both arms around Prescott, and down went the Army left end.

"Humph!" grunted Haynes, though his tone did not sound displeased

"I hope that isn't a sample of Prescott's skill," muttered one Army captain to another.

"No matter how good a man he is, Prescott should have been in the squad from the outset of the training," replied the other.

Boyle was calling the signal. Breathlessly the larger part of the spectators watched to see Dick redeem himself.

But again he failed to make much of an advance with the ball. After the second "down," with barely anything gained, Brayton ordered Boyle to throw the ball over to the right of the Army line.

So, in the next dash, Prescott and Holmes had but little to do. The Army lost the ball.

Immediately it looked as though Ennis, captain of Lehigh, had heard all about the new Army left end and left tackle, for Lehigh's own sturdy right end came forward with the ball. Dick and Greg both dashed furiously at him, but Greg was hurled aside by Lehigh's interference. Dick, however, held Lehigh's right end dragged the Army man for a yard; then others joined in the melee, and the ball was down.

Lehigh advanced some twenty yards before being compelled to give up the ball. It became more and more plain that the visitors intended forcing the fighting around the Army's left end. At last, however, the Army balked the game, and returned to the attack, trying to regain some of the lost Army territory.

"They're going to pound us, Greg," whispered Dick in one of the pauses of the game. "We were all right in the High School days, but we're playing with tremendously bigger men now."

Even Brayton began to question his judgment having taken these two men so recently on the team.

"If I had been able to train them from the first, they'd have been all right," muttered the captain of the Army Eleven.

To ease up on Prescott and Holmes, Brayton directed, as often as possible, charges through the center, or right-end rushes. But almost half of the time Lehigh seemed bent on bearing down the Army's left end. The hard work was beginning to tell on both Dick and Greg.

Yet it was a long tine, after all, before Lehigh managed to score a touchdown. When the time came, however, the visitors also made their kick for goal, and the score was Lehigh, 6; Army, 0. "Humph!" remarked Cadet Haynes, for the dozenth time. All his fellow subs. had moved away from him. They were disappointed, but they realized that Prescott and Holmes had entered the game under brilliant promise, yet without training.

Dutifully the cadet cheer-master kept at his work, but now the responses came with less volume from the corps of cadets, who were truly sitting on anxious seats.

In the interval of rest, Lieutenant Carney talked anxiously with Brayton.

"Have we made a mistake in Prescott and Holmes?" asked the coach.

"What do you think, sir!" asked Brayton.

"If we had had that pair in training from the outset," replied the Army officer, "I'm satisfied that they would have made a better showing. Lehigh isn't a particularly strong team, but they have one of the best right-end assaults that I've seen in some time. It's really too bad that Prescott and Holmes, in their first game, are put against such a strong, clever assault."

"Well, we can't put Haynes in now, unless Prescott should be injured," replied Brayton.

"Haynes?" repeated the Army coach. "I'm glad he's not on your line today. Training and all, Haynes isn't the man to match Prescott, even without training."

Haynes heard, and his face was convulsed with rage as he turned swiftly away.

"Queer how folks take so much stock in that fellow Prescott!" muttered the turnback. "Why can't a man like Lieutenant Carney see that Prescott is nothing but a dub, while Holmes is only a dub's helper?"

All through the Army seats it was beginning to be felt that the late placing of Prescott and Holmes in the Army had probably been an error.

There were even many who rated Haynes higher than he deserved to be rated, and who believed that the turnback might have done much to save the day.

As it was, the Army had about given up hope. Lehigh was stronger than usual; that was all, except that the Army team appeared to be weaker than in the year before.

The band still played at appropriate moments; the corps of cadets answered every signal for a yell, but Army spirits were drooping fast.

"Greg," muttered Dick, with a rueful face, "you can wager that we're being roasted by everyone out of earshot!"



CHAPTER XIII

WHEN THE CHEERS BROKE LOOSE

Fifteen minutes left to play.

By this time even the most hopeful spectators had settled down to the conviction that the Army was to lose the game. The most sanguine hoped that the score would not exceed 6 to nothing.

"We're done for on this trip!" muttered Lewis, the Army's right guard.

"No, we're not," retorted Dick, his eyes flashing. "We can't lose; that's all there is to it!"

"Who told you that," demanded Lewis.

"That used to be our motto, our fighting principle on the old Gridley High School team in the days when it never lost a game," replied Prescott.

"Hm!" returned Lewis. "I wish we had some more of your old Gridley players on the team today, then."

Then they scurried to their places, leaving Dick in wonder as to whether Lewis' last remark had been intended for sarcasm.

"Greg." whispered Dick, his pulses throbbing, "you see those fellows on the Lehigh right flank?"

They're the fellows we've got to down. We've got to down them, if we get killed!"

"That's the word!" gritted the Army left tackle. "Dick, I'd about as soon be killed as let the Army be walked over!"

This had all been whispered rapidly.

The Army had just got the ball again, and was only ten yards over into Lehigh territory.

Now Boyle's signal was sounding:

"Twelve—-seven—-six—-three!"

Dick straightened. Greg squirmed. Both knew that their chance had come again.

Making an oblique dash, Boyle himself passed the pigskin to Dick Prescott. Then all of the Army line that could do so stiffened in and surged behind Prescott and Holmes.

Lehigh's bigger right end was making like a cyclone for Dick. The Lehigh man was backed finely.

Just as they were on the point of dashing together, Greg, as by previous arrangement, gave Dick a prodigious shove, at the same instant himself leaping forward.

So quickly was the thing done that Lehigh's right end, ere he realized it, had grappled with Greg—-and Dick was around the end, racing!

With a muttered growl of rage Lehigh's man let Holmes go. For a second or two, the college men were badly rattled. Greg, with the agility of a squirrel, ducked low and got through, racing with all his might after Prescott.

Twenty-four yards were covered ere Prescott went down. When he did so, Greg was standing back, saving himself that he might help Dick the next time.

Once more the ball was snapped back. This time some brilliant faking was done. The whole of the first movement looked as though the ball were to be pushed somewhere through the Army's right flank, and Lehigh wheeled accordingly. But it was a left-end pass, after all. Dick and Greg got through by a very slight variation on their last ruse eighteen yards more gained!

In an instant, now, those in the Army seats were wild with enthusiasm. The band crashed out joyously, a dozen measures, while the cadets sang one of their songs of jubilant brag. Then all was suddenly still for the next bit of play.

While the men of both teams were hurrying to the line-up, a signal was noticed by hundreds that caused excited comment.

Brayton made some slight signal to Prescott Both Dick and Greg shook their heads sullenly.

"Confound Brayton!" shivered Lieutenant Barney. "What does he mean by that? He has signaled Prescott and Holmes asking them if they can put one more by Lehigh, and they have refused. Ennis and all the Lehighs have tumbled. Brayton——-"

"Seven—-two—-nine—-eight!" voiced Quarterback Boyle.

Instantly Coach Carney's face cleared. It was an emergency signal, not yet used in the game. As if unconsciously, all the men of the Army eleven had turned toward right guard.

The ball was snapped back. Boyle took three steps of a plunge toward right guard, then suddenly dodged, passing the ball to Greg, who swiftly passed it to Prescott—-and the race was on.

Lehigh's right end made a gallant dash to stop Dick. There was a mix-up in an instant. All happened so swiftly that the spectators were not certain how the thing had been done.

But Dick Prescott, with Cadet Greg Holmes almost at his side, was charging across the lower field, past one of the halfbacks, and with only fullback really in their way.

There was a tackle. But Dick was seen to come out of it, while Greg rolled on the grass with the fullback.

"Touchdown!"

The air trembled with the vibration of that surging yell as Cadet Prescott raced across Lehigh's goal line.

"Humph!" ejaculated Haynes. But he, too, was on his feet, watching the lively performance.

Then the pigskin was carried back for the kick for goal, and the goal was made.

Lehigh was tied! After the early discouragements of the game that seemed luck enough.

Lieutenant Carney was the personal embodiment of joy as he recalled the signal of Brayton and the sullen headshakes of Prescott and Holmes.

"That was a ratty and clever piece of acting, to throw the visitors off their guard!" chuckled the Army coach.

No time was lost in lining up again. Only seven minutes of playing time were left. It seemed too short in which to do anything in the faces of the Army players there glowed the light of determination.

Within three minutes the ball was well down in Lehigh territory. The college men fought grimly now. They were becoming rattled; the Army players seemed more confident and more full of spirit than at time in the day.

Now there came another play. Again the Army's left wing was used. There was a short, desperate scrimmage. The Army had gained four yards, yet lost—-what?

For, out of that scrimmage came Dick and Greg, each limping enough to be noticed.

One of the Army "rainmakers" (doctors) even started out from the side lines, but Brayton waive the medical officer back.

"Is it a trick, this time, or real?" wondered Conch Carney, who did not care to be caught napping again.

"Five—-nine—-seven—-two—-eighteen!"

The last numeral called for a fake kick. So well was the strategy carried out that Lehigh was even trapped into spreading out a trifle.

It was a left-end play again, however, and Dick and Greg, backed by all the rest, fought to put it through.

Lehigh's halfback caught Prescott this time—-caught him fair and full, and Prescott went down.

Yet this had been intended. So well was it done that Greg, close in, was away with the ball by the time that Prescott touched the earth.

There was a yell of dismay from the visitors. They started to bear down Holmes, but all of the Army team had been prepared for this move from the instant the last signal; had been called. So it was the full force of the charging Army line that pushed Cadet Holmes through and over the goal line.

Over all the cheering that followed this manoeuvre came the call for time at the end of the game's playing time. Yet, under the rules, the kick for goal was tried.

The kick failed—-but who cared? The finishing score was:

Army, 11; Lehigh, 6.

Gone were all the doubts concerning Prescott and Holmes. Now they were the most sensational players in the Army team. Justly Brayton received his full share of credit both for taking on Prescott and Holmes at the eleventh hour, and also for carrying out so cleverly his own captain's part of the strategy that had won. Lehigh's team went off the field dejected. The visitors had counted on victory as theirs. There was a noticeable silence among the Lehigh "boosters" as they clambered down from their from their seats and strolled moodily away.

Only one man had any adverse commend. That man was turnback Haynes, and all he said was:

"Humph!"



CHAPTER XIV

FOR AULD LANG SYNE

After that Dick and Greg turned out every day for practice with the team.

Both Lieutenant Carney and Team Captain Brayton speedily learned that they had made no mistake in getting Prescott and Holmes on to the line.

A number of smaller colleges were defeated, and with rattling good scores.

Dick and Greg seemed to improve with every game.

True, Yale walked off with the honors, though the score, ten to six, had been stubbornly contested throughout.

Harvard was played to a tie that year; Princeton was beaten by six to two, the two standing for a safety that Princeton forced the Army to make.

Lieutenant Carney was one of the happiest men on the station. From having a team rather below the average, he had produced an Army eleven that was destined to go down as famous in American military life.

As Thanksgiving drew near all interest centered in what was, after all, to be the real game of the year—-that between the Army and the Navy, which is always played the Saturday after that holiday.

Haynes, during the season's good work, had not been able wholly to keep his tongue back of his teeth. He had made several disparaging remarks. For of these remarks Lewis, of the Army eleven, chose to take he turnback to account.

Hot words followed, ending in a fight. Haynes, roundly beaten, withdrew altogether from the eleven.

"That fellow Prescott has wonderful luck, or he'd have had his neck broken long ago, considering all the hard packs that he has bumped into in the games," growled the turnback disgustedly to himself.

In fact, Haynes was forced to do a large share of his talking with himself. He hadn't been "cut" by the other cadets, but he had succeeded in making himself generally unpopular through his too evident dislike of Prescott.

"Funny, but that's the man who wanted me to resign the class presidency so that he could run for it," laughed Dick to his chum.

Dick had told Greg of that laughable interview, but it had gone no further. Greg could be trusted not to talk too much.

"Going over to Philadelphia to see the Navy anchored to a zero score, Haynes?" asked Carter, of the second class.

"Yes; I reckon I'm going over," replied Haynes. "But I'm not so sure that we'll see the Navy sunk," replied the turnback.

"I know you don't care much for Prescott," smiled Carter. "Yet how can you be blind to the wonderful work that he and Holmes are doing? Is it because Prescott is playing the position for which you were cast?"

"No, it isn't," retorted Haynes, his face red with passion "If our team wants Prescott, let it have him. I don't care. But I've a notion Prescott won't be strutting about with such lordly airs——-"

"Prescotts? Lordly airs?" broke in Cadet Carter, grinning broadly. "Whew, but that would make a hit with the fellows! Why, Prescott is anything but a lordly chap. He's one of the most modest fellows in the corps. He had to be fairly dragged on to the eleven. He believed it would be better off without him."

"So it would, sure!" rasped the turnback.

"Now, see here, Haynes, don't get so sore as to warp your own judgment," expostulated Carter.

"Well, you just wait and see how much we do to the Navy! Have you heard about the Navy's new, lightning right end?"

"Darrin, you mean?"

"Yes," nodded Haynes. "A friend of mine, who saw Darrin play the other day, writes me that Darrin is an armor-clad terror on the grid iron. If he is, he'll pulverize Prescott, unless Brayton shifts Prescott to some other position."

"Pooh! I'm not afraid," laughed Carter, turning to walk away. "Darrin, no doubt, is good, but he can't do anything to Prescott."

Neither of the speakers was aware that Dave Darrin, midshipman, United States Navy, was one of the oldest and dearest friends that Dick Prescott had.

Few at West Point knew that Darrin and Prescott had ever met.

"Am I going over to Philadelphia to see the game?" muttered Haynes to himself, as he strode away from the game. "I want to see Prescott go up against the real star Darrin, and get his neck broken!"

Anstey was one of the few at West Point who knew anything about the friendship between Prescott, Holmes, Darrin and Dalzell.

Dan Dalzell had also made the Annapolis eleven, playing right tackle. That was bound to bring him into hard grip with Greg.

"Anstey, I hope there's time for you to make the acquaintance of Dave and Dan," Dick said earnestly while the Virginian was visiting Greg and himself. "Dave and Dan are two of the real fellows, if there are any left in the world.

"They must be, old ramrod," replied the Virginian quietly, "if they hold such place in your affections, and in old Holmesy's."

Great was the rejoicing, on the eventful morning, when the two "Army specials" pulled out from the station down by the river's edge.

The first section of the train pulled out ahead, carrying the officers of the post, their families and closest friends.

On the second longer section traveled the corps of cadets—-with the exception of a few of the young men who, under discipline, were not allowed to take this trip. With the cadets went the tactical officers and the coaching force.

At Jersey City the first real stop was made. Then the journey was resumed to Philadelphia.

Franklin Field was crowded with somewhere between thirty and thirty-five thousand people when the corps of cadets, headed by the band, marched on to the field and thence to the seats reserved for the band and the corps.

The whole progress of the corps across the field was accompanied by lusty cheering, by applause and by the mad waving of the gray, black and gold Army pennants. Most of the spectators who carried the Navy's blue and gold pennants so far forgot their partisanship as to cheer and wave for the Army's young men.

Hardly was the corps of cadets seated when another loud strain of joyous music was heard. The brigade of midshipmen, from Annapolis, behind the Naval Academy Band, was now entering the field. All the cheering and all the other frantic signs of approval were repeated, the corps of cadets from West Point lending heavy additional volume to the rousing send-off.

In the meantime rival football squads had been hustled off to dressing quarters.

As the Army squad made quick time to the dressing rooms, Dick and Greg had their eyes on the alert for even the briefest glimpse of any of the Navy eleven. It was two years and a half since Dick and Greg had had even a glimpse of Dave or Dan. How the two West Pointers yearned for even an instant's look at the chums of old days!

But no such exchange of glimpses was possible at this time. The Army players and substitutes got into their togs, then waited.

"All ready?" called Brayton at last. "Then fall in and out on to the field in double time!"

Another wild outburst of cheering was let loose when the Army eleven trotted in into view. The Military Academy Band began playing. An instant later the Naval Academy Band fell in, playing the same air by ear.

The ball was turned loose, and after it went the players. The practice work was brisk and warm.

Hardly had the combined bands stopped playing when another great yell broke loose. Young men in the blue and gold striped stockings of the Navy were trotting on to the field. The Navy band turned itself loose, followed in an instant by the Army band.

The din was something bewildering. Those in the further seats could not hear the music of the bands at all.

Dick and Greg watched covertly as they saw the Navy team come on at the other end of the field. Which was Dave, and which was Dan? Hang it, how disguising these football suits were!

Both teams went on with their practice. There came a moment when the Army and Navy teams came closer to each other.

Then the eager spectators saw something that was not on the programme.

The chums of the old Gridley days had made each other out in the same moment. There was a rush. In mid-field Dick Prescott and Dave Darrin gripped hands as if they could never let go again. Across their outstretched arms Greg and Dan found each other in a right-hand clasp.

So delighted were the old chums that they fairly hugged each other.

Over it all, while the spectators gazed in silent wonder, came the strains from the Army band, for the leader, more with a sense of the fitting than from any knowledge of facts, waved his men into the strains of "Auld Lang Syne."

"Should auld acquaintance be forgot——-"

The band was playing softly. As the spectators took up the fine old words the band music died down. There came a rolling rattle from the drum section of the Navy band, and then high over all the voices rose the triumphant measures of "Columbia, the Gem of the Ocean."

That crowd forgot to cheer. It was a moment for song, as thousands, catching the full spirit of the air, gave voice to—-

"The Army and Navy forever!"

Not a word, so far, had been spoken by any one of the chums. They had not intended to bring about a scene like this, making themselves the central figures in the great picture. But it was too late to retreat.

"It seems as though an age had gone by, Dave," spoke Cadet Prescott.

"It surely does, Dick," returned Midshipman Darrin.

"And we've got to beat you today, too," said Midshipman Dalzell dolefully.

"What? Beat the Army?" gasped Cadet Holmes.

"The Navy is the only crowd that can really do it," admitted Dalzell.

"Foes in sport today, Dave!" declared Prescott ardently. "But in nothing else, ever!"

"Never mind either the Army or the Navy, just for the minute," begged Dave Darrin. "But it's great, isn't it, just to be in the service at all?"

Then, becoming suddenly aware that they had demoralized the practice work of both elevens, cadets and midshipmen parted.

"But do your best to beat me today, Dave!" begged Dick.

"I surely will!" came back the retort. "And don't you falter for the Army, Dick!"

"Old friends, Prescott?" demanded Brayton as the two cadets ran back to their own forces.

"We four learned football together, on the same team," confessed Dick.

"Is that man Darrin as big a wonder as we've heard?" queried Brayton.

"Bigger, I'm afraid," returned Prescott.

"He opposes you today. Can he get away with you?"

"He may be able to batter me down. But I'll give him all the trouble I can, Brayton. Darrin is for the Navy, but I'm equally for the Army!"

"It will be all right, as long as friendship doesn't break up your work," warned Brayton.

"That very friendship will make all four of us fight harder than ever we did in our lives before," spoke Prescott seriously.

At almost the very same moment Dave Darrin was saying about the same thing to the captain of the Navy team.

"Humph! Do those fellows think they're posing before a moving-picture machine?"

The one who uttered that remark was turnback Haynes. He had come on to the field with a scowling face, and the scowl was likely to deepen steadily.

Anstey, from his seat, had been "all eyes" for the pair whom he now knew to be the heard-about Darrin and Dalzell.

All Anstey's further speculation was cut short.

The Army and Navy elevens were lining up to start play.



CHAPTER XV

HEROES AND A SNEAK

Turnback Haynes watched the game closely, darkly.

He wanted to note and to remember every play near the Army's left end today. Should the Navy win the day's battle, then Cadets Haynes felt sure he could make a large number of men in the second class at the Military Academy believe that Prescott had allowed his ancient friendship to stand in the way of an Army victory.

"Great Caesar, I might even succeed in getting to be president of the class yet!" muttered the turnback. "There they go again!"

A second or two later the wild cheering began again.

For the Army was charging with the ball, well down in Navy territory, and Prescott, with the pigskin safely tucked, was using his most wily tactics to get by Dave Darrin.

And Dick succeeded, too, though only for eight yards, when Dave had the satisfaction of helping to pull his old-time chum down to the ground in the interests of the Navy.

For a little while the ball had been over on Army ground. Now, however, it was going steadily toward the Navy's goal line, and the interest of the spectators was intense.

The time of the game was more than half gone. Once the Navy had been forced to carry the pig skin behind its own line, gaining thus a fresh lease of life in the game. But, of course, the safety scored two against the Navy. For a while afterward it had looked as though that, would be the score for the game—-two to nothing.

"If Brayton uses Prescott just right, and doesn't call on them too often, they'll get the ball over the Navy's goal line yet," confided Lieutenant Carney to a brother officer who stood at his side.

"The Navy line-up is a great one this year," replied his comrade. "For myself I'd be satisfied to see the score end as it stands—-two to nothing."

"Without a touchdown on either side!" questioned Lieutenant Carney, with a trace of scorn in his voice. "That wouldn't be real sport, old fellow!"

"I know; but it would be at least a safe finish for the Army," responded the other.

Just then Quarterback Boyle's voice was heard giving the signal:

"Eight—-seventeen—-four!"

Lieutenant Carney gave his friend's arm a slight nudge.

By way of Greg the ball came to Dick, who, already in fleet motion, was none the less ready for the pass.

With the ball under his arm, Prescott started. Almost in an instant Dave and Dan piled upon him, ere Greg could get in for effective interference.

Two more downs and the Navy had the ball.

Now Darrin, with Dalzell's close elbow-touch throughout, started a series of brilliant plays. To be sure, Dave didn't make all the runs, but he made the larger part of them.

Turnback Haynes's eyes began to snap.

Dave Darrin was playing with fire in his eyes.

Prescott was fighting back, doggedly, sullenly it almost seemed, but Darrin was putting on his best streak of the day. Ere the Navy was obliged to give up the ball once more it had crossed the line, and was twelve yards down in Army territory.

Nor did the Army succeed in getting the ball back over the center line. Once more the Navy took the ball and began to work wonders with it. Within fifteen yards of the Army goal line the middies carried the ball, by easy stages.

Dan Dalzell, for an instant, caught Greg's glance and sent him a look of comical warning.

Holmes stiffened, though he returned the look in all personal friendliness.

"Don't let Dave do it—-whatever he'll be up to next," begged Greg, in an appealing whisper. "Dick, I'll stay beside you—-to the death!"

It was another right-end pass for the Navy, backed by a solid charge.

Worse, in the impact that followed Dave succeeded, somehow, in outwitting even Prescott's stern vigilance.

Dick Prescott gave vent to a gasp. He felt his heart thumping as he wheeled, dashing after Dave.

But Darrin was in his element now, neither to be stopped, nor overtaken. Dodging with marvellous agility and craft three Army men who sought to bar his way, Dave went pantingly over the Army goal line—-scoring a touchdown!

What a fearful tumult ascended from the seats of the Navy's sympathizers over on the stands!

The Navy had proved itself, by scoring the only touchdown.

Lieutenant Carney groaned inwardly. Two to five now—-and the Army coach saw no more hope of scoring for this day.

Flushed, happy, the midshipmen ran back to form their line for the try for goal.

That kick missed fire. No matter! Five to two for the Navy, anyhow!

At the signal the Army and Navy lined up to fight out what was left of time to play the game.

Naval Academy band and the whole navel crowd were having the jubilation all their own way.

The midshipmen, having proved slight superiority over the Army, could doubtless prevent more scoring in this game.

In fact, the Navy captain had just passed this wood to the members of his team:

"Score, of course, if we can. But, above all, keep the Army from scoring!"

It was the Navy's turn to make the kick-off. This gave the Army at least the chance of starting the running with the ball.

Prescott and Holmes had shown as yet no signs of cave in.

Every player on the Navy team looked to see this swift, tricky army pair make the first effort of the new series.

He carried it ten yards, too, ere he was obliged to go to the ground with the pigskin under him. The next play was made at the center of the Army line.

What was the matter? wondered many of the Army watchers. Was Brayton becoming dissatisfied with his left wing?

"Humph!" rejoined Haynes sourly.

But the third time that the ball was put in play it went swiftly to Prescott. Instead of trying to make his way around the end, Dick suddenly sped some what to the right. Darrin had gone in the opposite direction, yet, thoroughly familiar with his old chum's tricky ways of play, Dave had his eyes wide open. So he wheeled, rushing at Prescott. But he bumped, instead, with Greg, a fraction of a second before Dalzell could reach the spot and take a hand.

Then the whole Army line charged down on the endangered spot. Dick was through, and the Navy men were having all they do. In a twinkling Prescott had sped, on, now was he caught and downed until he had the ball within twelve yards of the Navy's goal line.

Right off the Army cheer-master was on the job. The corps yell was raised with Prescott's name and Holmes's.

Brayton looked flushed and happy. He hoped yet to show these over-confident middies something.

Again the line-up was made for the snapback. The midshipmen players were now justifiably nervous, though they gave no sign of the fact.

Again the signal was given. Holmes received the ball and started. The whole Army line veered to the left. The Navy moved to mass in support of Darrin and Dalzell.

Yet, just as the Navy men thought they could stop Greg, it turned out that Prescott carried the pigskin.

Nor did Cadet Prescott lose any time at all in trying to buck the line.

Ere the attention of the Navy had been drawn away from Holmes, Prescott was off on a slanting line around the Navy's right end.

Even Dave Darrin was properly fooled this time. Dick had only to shake off a halfback and the fullback and he was over the goal line, holding down the ball.

Never before had Franklin Field heard a greater din than now arose. The Army Band was now playing furiously, yet the musicians barely heard themselves. The black, gold and gray pennants of the Army were waving frantically over half the field. The noise of cheering must have been heard a mile away.

From the cadets themselves came some Army yell for which the cheer-master had signaled, but no one heard what it was.

The noise continued until the line-up had been effected for the kick for goal.

Brayton, flushed with delight, chose to make the kick himself. The pigskin soared, describing a beautiful curve. Between the goal posts it went, dropping back of the line.

Gloom had fallen over the middies, who realized that but three minutes time was left.

Swiftly as could be, the line-up was made for the kick-off. It was the Army's turn to start the ball, the Navy's to come back with it, if possible, into Army territory.

The Navy soon succeeded in getting the pigskin a trifle over the middle line. But the time was too short in which to do anything decisive. The Army was strictly on the defensive, taking no chances. Time was called.

The Army had won, eight to five!

When it was all over the middies cheered the victors as lustily as anyone, though sore hearts beat under the blue uniforms of Annapolis.

West Points cadets, on the other hand, were wild with joy.

Again and again they sent up the rousing corps yell for Prescott and Holmes, with Brayton's name added.

Turnback Haynes, finding no one to listen to him now, in anything he might have to say against Prescott, turned to stare at the heaving lines of gray.

To himself, Haynes muttered curiously:

"Humph!"

That one word did not, however, do justice to Haynes's frame of mind. He was wild with jealousy and hatred, but dared not show it.

That fellow Prescott will have his head fearfully swelled and be more unbearable than ever! growled Haynes to himself. Confound him, he has no business at all in the Army! Why should he be?

Then, after a pause, a cunning look crept slowly into the eyes of the turnback, as he throbbed under his breath:

If I can have anything to do with it, he wont be much longer in the Army!

For just a moment, ere the teams left the field, the old Gridley chums had a chance to rush over to each other.

"I was afraid of you, Dick," Dave confessed. "Not more than I was of you, Dave, laughed Prescott."

"Did you find the Army such easy stuff to use as a doormat, Dan?" queried Greg dryly.

"Oh, it—it—it was the fault of the new rules," retorted Midshipman Dalzell, making a wry face. "You know, Greg, you never could play much football. But the new rules favor the muff style of playing."

Only a few more words could the quartette exchange. There was time, however, for a few minutes of talk before the West Pointers were obliged to leave for their train.

Greg, sighed Dick, if we only had Dave and Dan playing on the same team with us, such a game would be great!

"Oh, well," murmured Greg, "whether Annapolis or West Point lugged off the actual score, the service won, anyway. For the Army and Navy are inseparable units of the service."

It was a very orderly and dignified lot of cadets who filed aboard the cadet section of the train to leave for home. Once the train was well on its way out of Philadelphia, however, the pent-up enthusiasm of the happy sons of the Army broke loose, nor did the tactical officers with them make any effort to restrain the merry enthusiasm.

Some of the cadets went from car to car, in search of more excitement.

Dick Prescott soon became so tired of hero-worship that he slipped along through the rear car a few feet at a time until, at last, unobserved, he managed to make his way out on to the rear platform.

Unobserved, that is, by all save one. Turnback Haynes, who had been watching Dick with a sort of wild fascination, noted Dick's latest move.

The train, which had been traveling at high speed, now slowed down to some twenty-five miles an hour in order to pass over a river.

While the attention of all the rest was turned toward the front end of the car, Haynes, with lowered eyes and half-slinking manner, made his way toward the rear of the car.

Peering through the glass in the door, the turnback could make out Cadet Prescott standing outside. Dick's back was toward the door.

A diabolical light flashed in Haynes's eyes for a moment. He shook from head to foot, but, by a strong effort of will, he stayed his quivering.

One stealthy look over his shoulder Haynes took, then suddenly opened the door, stepping outside.

Cadet Prescott half turned. There was no time to do more, when he felt himself seized in a strong clutch.

There was hardly any struggle. It all seemed to be over in a second or so. Cadet Prescott plunged headlong through the darkness of the night into the dark river below!



CHAPTER XVI

ROLL-CALL GIVES THE ALARM

For an instant Haynes leaned far out.

Now his eyes were filed with a terror that overcame the wild fascination of his wicked deed.

His anger had died down in a flash. Turnback Haynes would have given worlds to be able to recall the felonious deed he had just committed. But it was too late. He had seen Prescott's flying figure sink beneath the waters, which came up to within a few feet of the railroad trestle.

Haynes turned back with a sobbing groan. Then he cast a terrified look into the car.

Some of the fellows must have seen both of us come out here, he quavered. They'll see only one of us come back. I'll have to stand the whole fire of questions. Ugh! C-c-can I stand it without breaking down and giving myself away?

The train was over and off of the bridge by now. Warned by a light burning between the rails, the engineer brought the train to a standstill.

His heart bounding with a cowards hope, turnback Haynes leaped down to the roadbed. Breathlessly he rushed along the side of the train. He succeeded in gaining the platform of the third car ahead.

Though his knees shook under him, the turnback swung up on to the steps. In another moment, after noting that the cadets were not looking particularly towards the door, Haynes turned the knob, stepping inside and dropping, with feigned carelessness, into an empty seat.

"Hullo, Haynesy," was Lewis's easy greeting. Been up ahead?

"Yes," lied the turnback.

Anstey heard, though he did not pay much heed to the statement at the time.

There were many, of course, who asked for Dick. Greg had not seen his chum for some time. In his own heart Holmes felt sure that Dick, tired of being congratulated, had sought retirement—-in the baggage car, probably. So Greg had little to say, and did not go in search of his chum.

It was not, in fact, until the corps reached West Point, and roll-call by companies was held, that the absence of Cadet Richard Prescott, second class, was discovered.

Then there was a good deal of curiosity among a few comrades, wild excitement and useless speculation.

An hour later, however, Greg's fevered imaginings were cut short by word that was brought over to him from the cadet guard house. Prescott had reported by wire. He had fallen from the rear car of the train into a river. The telegram merely stated that he had made his way to the nearest village, where a clergyman had provided him with the funds needed for his return to West Point. He would report at the earliest hour possible.

From room to room in cadet barracks flew the news.

"Now, how could a fellow be so careless as to fall off a moving train?" demanded Lewis.

"Old ramrod may have been shaken up a heap in the game," hinted Anstey. "Prescott isn't the sort of chap to tell us every time he feels a trifle dizzy or experiences a nervous twitch. He may have felt badly, may have gone out on the platform for a whiff of fresh air, and then may have felt so much worse that he fell."

"Depend upon one thing," put in Brayton decisively. "Whatever Prescott does there's some kind of good reason for."

"It's enough, for to-night, declared Greg, to know that the royal old fellow is safe, anyway. To-morrow, well have the story, if there is any story worth having."

Turnback Haynes received the news with mingled emotions. His first sensation was one of relief at knowing that he was not actually a murderer—-one who had wickedly slain a fellow human being.

It was not long, though, before Haynes became seized with absolute fright over the thought that Prescott must have recognized him.

"In that case, all I can do is to stick out for absolute and repeated denial," shivered the turnback. "There's one great thing about West Point, anyway—-a cadets word simply has to be taken, unless there is the most convincing proof to the contrary. I guess Lewis will remember that I came in from the car ahead or seemed to. But I wonder if anyone, officer or cadet, saw me running along at the side of the train?"

It was small wonder that Cadet Haynes failed to get any sleep that night. All through the long hours to reveille the cadet tossed and tumbled on his cot. Fortunately for him, his roommate was too sound a sleeper to hear the tossing.

Heavy-eyed, shuddering, Haynes rose in the morning. Through the usual routine he went, and at last marched off to section recitation, outwardly as jaunty as any other man in the corps, yet with dark dread lurking in his soul.

It was about noon when Prescott reported at the adjutant's office, next going to the office of the commandant of cadets.

By both officers Dick was congratulated on his fortunate escape from death. Each officer asked him a few direct questions. Prescott stated that he had remained over night with the village clergyman, giving his wet, icy clothing a chance to dry.

It was when asked how he came to fall from the rear platform of the car that the cadet hesitated.

"I thought I was thrown from the platform, sir," Dick replied in each case.

"Who was on the platform with you?"

"No one, sir, an instant before."

"Did you see any one come out of the car?"

"No, sir."

"Did you recognize any assailant?"

"No-o, sir."

"Have you any good reason to suspect any particular person?"

"No good reason, sir."

"Could any one have come out of the car, unless it had been a tactical officer, a cadet or a railway employee?"

"No, sir."

That was as far as the questioning went, for both the adjutant and the commandant of cadets believed that Dick had been pitched from the rear platform by some sudden movement of the car. No other belief seemed sane enough to be considered.

It was the commandant of cadets who suggested:

"If you feel the slightest need of it, Mr. Prescott, you may go at once to cadet hospital, and be examined by one of the surgeons. We don't want you coming down with illness later, on account of a neglected chill."

"I am very certain I don't need a medical officers attention, sir," replied Cadet Prescott, with just the trace of a smile. "The Rev. Dr. Brown and his wife were about the most attentive people I ever met. I was pretty cold, sir, when I reached their house. But inside of five minutes they had me rolled up in warm blankets and were dosing me with ginger tea. Afterwards they gave me a hot supper. I slept like a top, sir, last night."

"You feel fit then, Mr. Prescott, to return to full duty? asked the K.C.

"Wholly fit, sir."

"Very good. Then I will so mark you. Go to your quarters, Mr. Prescott, and wait until the next call, which will be the call for dinner formation."

Saluting the commandant, Prescott left the cadet guard house, hastening to his own room.

A few minutes later Cadet Holmes burst in upon his chum.

To him Dick told the whole story of his striking the water, of his swimming to shore, and of hurried trip through the cold night to the nearest house.

"And you're sure you were pushed?" questioned greg thoughtfully.

"Either I was pushed, or it was all a horrid dream," replied Dick fervently.

"Then why didn't you so tell the K.C.?"

"I answered the K.C. truthfully, Greg. I told him all that I really know. I didn't feel called upon, and wasn't asked, to tell him anything that I guessed."

"What is your guess?" insisted Holmes, with the privilege of a friend.

"Greg, as far as I can be sure of anything without knowing it, I am absolutely certain that a cadet came out of the car, behind me, and that he pushed me off the platform."

"A cadet?" demanded Greg, turning pale. To Holmes it seemed atrocious to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor.

"Greg, as I plunged through the air, I succeeded in turning a trifle. I am convinced, in my own mind, that I saw the gray cape overcoat of a cadet I am also certain that I got a glimpse of his face. The only limit to my certainty is that I wouldn't want to name the man under oath."

"Who was he?" demanded Holmes.

Advancing, placing his lips against one of Greg's ears, Prescott whispered the name:

"Haynes! But you mustn't breathe this to a living soul! Remember, I wouldn't dare swear to the truth of what I've hinted to you."

Greg Holmes, wholly and utterly loyal to the cadet corps of which he was himself an honored member, went even paler. He leaned back against the wall, clenching his fists tightly.

"Haynes?" he whispered. "I don't like the fellow, and I never did. He's no friend of yours, either, Dick. But he wears the staunch old cadet uniform and has had more than three years of the West Point traditions. It seems impossible, Dick. Had anyone else but you told me this, even against Haynes, I would have turned on my heel and walked away."

"I hope it isn't true—-I hope it is all a hideous nightmare, born of my dismay when I found myself going through space!" breathed Dick fervently.

"What are you going to do about this?" asked Greg huskily.

"Nothing whatever."

"You are not going to mention Haynes to anyone else?"

"No, sirree! I shall keep my eyes open a bit when Haynes is around; that is all."

"I hope it isn't true—-oh, I hope it isn't true," breathed Greg fervently. "But I know you're no liar, Dick, and you're no dreamer of dreams! Confound it, I almost wish you hadn't told me this. But I asked you to."

Greg's face was a queer ashen gray in color.

At that moment the call for dinner formation sounded.

"You're all ready, Dick, so hustle along. I've clean forgotten to get myself ready. You hustle, and I'll try not to be late in the formation."

As Cadet Prescott hastened along through the lower corridor, he came face to face with the turnback.

Haynes stopped short, his jaw drooping. For just a second he stiffened his arms as though to throw himself in an attitude of defence.

Halting, without speaking or raising a hand, Dick Prescott looked squarely into the other man's eyes.

Haynes turned ghastly pale, his jaw moving nervously as though he would speak and could not.

A smile of scorn flashed into Prescotts face. Haynes fairly writhed beneath that contemptuous look. Then, still without a word or a sound, Prescott passed on.

"He did it!" muttered Dick to himself.

Yet, with the certainty of the turnbacks guilt, Prescott did not wish Haynes any personal harm. The only greatly perturbed thought that ran through Dick's mind was:

"That fellow is not fit for the Army. Must he be allowed to go on and graduate?"

Thrice during the dinner period Dick allowed his glance to rove over to the turnback. Not once did he catch Haynes's eye, but that young man was making only a pretence at eating.

"If he really pushed me from the train," muttered Prescott to himself, "I hope Haynes worries about it until he fesses cold in some study and so has to leave the Military Academy. For he'll never be fit to be an officer. He couldn't command other men with justice."



CHAPTER XVII

MR. CADET SLOWPOKE

Despite the fact that he had been through the first half of the year before, Haynes actually did go somewhat stale in some of the studies.

Some of the cadets who lived near enough were permitted to go home at the Christmas holidays, and the turnback was among this number.

Yet Haynes came back. In the January examinations he stood badly, getting place rather near the foot of the second class. Yet he pulled through and retained his place in the corps.

Dick and Greg, who did not go home over the holidays, both did fairly well in January. Each secured a number not far above the bottom of the second third of the class.

On Washington's Birthday, the cadets had a holiday after dinner.

The day, however, was ten-fold joyous for Dick, because Mrs. Bentley, Laura and Belle Meade were expected on the afternoon of that day, the girls to attend the cadet hop at Cullum Hall in the evening.

Dick and Greg, in their spooniest uniforms, were at the railway station to meet the visitors.

"Quick!" cried Mrs. Bentley, after the greetings were over. "There's the stage, and its about to start. We'll all get seats in it."

"If that is the programme, Mrs. Bentley," laughed Dick, "Greg and I will have to overtake you, later on, on foot. Cadets are not allowed to ride in the stage.

"Can't you telephone for a carriage, then?" inquired Mrs. Bentley.

"Certainly, and with pleasure, but cadets may not ride in a carriage, either."

"Oh, you poor cadets!" cried Mrs. Bentley. "To think of your having to climb that steep road ahead. And its ever so long, too!"

"You get in the stage, mother, and Belle and I will walk up the road with Dick and Greg," proposed Laura Bentley.

So the two cadets busied themselves with assisting Mrs. Bentley into the stage, after which they returned to their fair friends.

"Now, I have trouble in store for you two young men," declared Belle Meade, frowning. "Why did you young men conspire to beat the Navy at football?"

"For the honor and glory of the Army," replied Dick, smiling.

"To put humiliation over your old chums, Dave and Dan," flashed Belle. "Laura and I were down at Annapolis, at a hop last month, as you may have heard. Poor Dave hasn't yet recovered from the blow of seeing the Navy lose that game to the Army!"