“Haynesy, what’s the matter with you?” demanded Pierson one morning, as he watched his roommate going toward the washstand.

“What do you mean?” demanded Haynes, with the pallor of guilt on his face for a moment.

“Why, you always look so confoundedly ragged when you get up mornings.  You used to wake up looking fresh and rosy.  Now, you look like the ghost of an evil deed.”

“Huh!” growled Haynes, plunging his hands into the water.  “I’m all right.”

“I wish I could believe you!” muttered the puzzled Pierson under his breath.

“It’s near time to get Prescott, if I’m going to,” Haynes told himself a dozen times a day.

In fact, the matter preyed so constantly on his mind that the turnback walked through each day in a perpetual though subdued state of nervous fever.

The next night Pierson awoke with a start.  At first the cadet couldn’t understand why he should feel so creepy.  He was a good sleeper, and there had been no noise.

Hadn’t there, though?  It came again.  And now Cadet Pierson rubbed his eyes and half rose on his cot, leaning his head on one hand.

Now, with intense interest, he watched the proceedings of his roommate, turnback Haynes, who was up and moving stealthily about the room, every action being clearly revealed in the bright moonlight that was streaming through the windows.

CHAPTER XXII

THE ROW IN THE RIDING DETACHMENT

“Wow, what on earth is the fellow doing?” muttered the puzzled Pierson.

Haynes had gone over to his fatigue blouse, the left front of which he was examining very closely.

Then the turnback began to mutter indistinctly.

“Why, Haynesy is walking and talking in his sleep!” decided Pierson.  “Queer!  I never knew him to do anything like that before.  He must have something on his mind.”

Pierson had read, somewhere, that it is never wise to disturb a sleepwalker, there being a risk that the sleepwalker, if aroused too suddenly, may suffer collapse from fright.

“I wonder what on earth old Haynesy can have on his mind?” pondered Pierson.  “Oh, well, whatever it is, it is no business of mine.”

With that Pierson let his head return to his pillow.

“That did the trick for Prescott—–­ha! ha!” muttered the turnback.

“What on earth did the trick, and what trick was it?” muttered watching Pierson, curious despite the admitted fact that it was all none of his business.

After a few moments more Haynes went back to his cot, pulled the sheet and a single blanket up over him, and became quiet.

“It wouldn’t do any good to ask Haynesy anything about this,” decided Pierson.  “He won’t remember anything about it in the morning.”

So Pierson went to sleep again.  When he awoke in the morning he was more than half inclined to believe that he had dreamed it all.