“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.