“Listen to our preacher!” jeered Furlong.

CHAPTER II

PLEBE BRIGGS LEARNS A FEW THINGS

“Anstey!” called Prescott softly across the company street.

“Oh, was it you idiots?” demanded the Virginian, showing his wrathful looking face.

“No,” replied Dick.  “Come over as quickly as you can.”

It took Anstey a few minutes to dry himself, and to rearray himself, for the Virginian’s sense of dignity would not permit him to go visiting in the drenched garments in which he had awakened.

“Which one of you was it?” demanded Anstey, as he finally entered the tent of Furlong and his bunkies.

“No one here,” Dick replied.  “The other gentlemen don’t even know what happened, for I haven’t told them.”

So Anstey withdrew his look of suspicion from the five cadets.  No cadet may ever lie; not even to a comrade in the corps.  Any cadet who utters a lie, and is detected in it, is ostracized as being unfit for the company of gentlemen.  So, when Dick’s prompt denial came, Anstey believed, as he was obliged to do.

“It was a plebe, Mace,” continued Dick.

“I’ll have all but his life, then!” cried the southerner fiercely.

“I wouldn’t even think of it.  The offender is only a cub,” urged Dick.  “If you accept my advice, Mace, you won’t even call the poor blubber out.  We’ll just summon him here, and make the little imp so ashamed of himself that the lesson ought to last him through the rest of his plebedom.  I’m cooler than you are at this moment, Mace, but none the less disgusted.  Will you let me handle this affair?”

“Yes,” agreed Anstey quickly.

As for Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs, it was “just nuts” for them to see their class president, lately so stately on the subject of hazing, now actually proposing to take a plebe sternly in hand.  The three bunkies exchanged grins.

“Tell us, Mace,” continued Dick, “have you had any occasion to take Mr. Briggs in hand at any time?

“So it was Mr. Briggs?” demanded Anstey angrily, turning toward the door.

“Wait!  Have you taken Mr. Briggs in hand at any time?”

“Yes,” admitted Anstey.  “When you and Holmesy were out, last evening, I had Mr. Briggs in our tent for grinning at me and failing to say ‘sir’ when he addressed me.”

“You put him through some performances?”

“Nothing so very tiresome,” replied Anstey.  “I made him brace for five minutes, and then go through the silent manual of arms for five more.”

“Humph!  That wasn’t much!” grunted Furlong.

“I guess that was why Mr. Briggs felt that he had to get square,” mused Dick aloud.  “But a plebe is not allowed to get square by doing anything b.j.”

Again Anstey turned as if to go out, but Dick broke in: 

“Don’t do it, Mace.  Try, for the next half hour, to keep as cool as an iceberg.  Trust the treatment of the impish plebe to us.  Greg, old fellow, will you be the one to go down and tell Mr. Briggs that his presence in this tent is desired immediately?”