“Do you know,” continued Furlong severely, “that three mornings ago, when Jessup, of our class, was dressing at forty horsepower so he wouldn’t miss reveille formation, that he stepped into two shoes full of soft soap, and had to go out sloshing into line in that shape, just because he couldn’t spare the time to take his shoes off and empty them?

“Yes,” nodded Prescott.  “We suspected Haverford, of the first class, of that, because Jessup, on guard, challenged Haverford when Haverford was trying to run the guard after taps.”

“Haverford nothing,” retorted Furlong.  “He’s above such jobs.  No, sir!  This afternoon Jessup ran plumb into Mr. Ellis when that little beast bunkie of the other beast, Mr. Briggs, was just in the act of dropping soft soap into the shoes that Aldrich will wear to dress parade today.

“Where on earth did Mr. Ellis get hold of soft soap?” demanded Prescott, raising himself on one elbow.

“You’re entirely missing the problem, old ramrod!” grunted Furlong wrathfully.  “The question is, how can we possibly soak such habits out of Mr. Ellis and Mr. Briggs?”

“Perhaps it can’t be done,” suggested Dick.

“It must be done!” uttered Furlong savagely.

“Well, I can’t think of any yearling better suited to the task that you are, Milesy!”

“One man? or one tentful, isn’t equal to any such gigantic piece of work!” retorted Furlong.  “Ramrod, you’ve got to appoint a class committee to take these two baboons in hand.  It ought to be done this very night, too.  Now, sit up, won’t you, and get your thinking cap on?”

“Have you talked with any of the other men?”

“Yes; and they all agree that a soiree must be given to Mr. Ellis, and that you should be present.”

“What is the call for me, Milesy?

“You are the class president.”

“But this is no affair that involves the honor of the class.  Therefore, as president, I cannot see that there is any call for me.”

“It is the feeling with all the members of the yearling class that you should be present.”

Prescott looked at his visitor intently for a moment.

Dick understood, now.  He had taken “too little” interest in the hazing of b.j. plebes, and the class did not want to see its president shirk any duties that might be considered his, either as yearling or as class president.

“Very good, Milesy,” replied Dick quietly.  “You may inform all anxious inquirers that I’ll be on hand.  Where and at what hour?”

“Eight o’clock, in Dunstan’s tent.”

“Very good.”

Furlong arose with a satisfied look on his face.  He had, in fact, been deputed by others to make sure that Prescott would be on hand.  There is always a good deal of risk attendant on hazing.  It may lead to discovery—–­and dismissal.

“I wonder if some of the fellows think I keep away from hazing simply because I’m afraid of risking my neck?” yawned Dick.  “They practically insist on my sitting in to-night, do they?  Oh, well!”