When Tubbs saw himself in the glass he almost had a fit.

“My gracious sakes alive!” he groaned.  “How ridiculous!  How did this happen?  Why, I look like a negro!”

“Is anything amiss, Captain Putnam?” came from the next tent, and George Strong appeared.

“Nothing, excepting that Private Tubbs has seen fit to black up as a negro and call upon me,” answered the master of the academy, with a faint smile playing around the corners of his mouth.

“I didn’t black up!” roared William Philander.  “It’s all a horrid joke somebody has played on me while I was asleep!  You don’t want me, do you?”

“No, Tubbs.”

“Then I’ll go back, and if I can find out who did this—­”

A burst of laughter from a distance made him break off short.

“They’re laughing at me!” he went on.  “Just hear that!”

“Go to bed, and I will investigate in the morning,” answered Captain Putnam, and William Philander went off, vowing vengeance.

“Just wait till I find out who did it,” he told himself, as he washed up the best he could in some cold water.  “I’ll have them in court for it.”  But he never did find out, nor did Captain Putnam’s investigation lead to any disclosures.

William Philander’s trials for that night were not yet at an end.  On the march to the camp some of the cadets had picked up a number of burrs of fair size.  A liberal quantity of these had been introduced under the covers of Tubbs’ cot immediately after he left the tent.

Having washed up as best he could, the aristocratic cadet blew out the light he had borrowed and prepared to retire once more.  He threw back the covers and dropped heavily upon the cot in just the spot where the sharpest of the burrs lay.

An instant later a wild shriek of pain and astonishment rent the air.

“Ouch!  Oh my, I’m stuck full of pins!  Oh, dear me!”

And then William Philander Tubbs leaped up and began to dance around like a wild Indian.

“What’s the matter with you, Billy?” asked one of his tent-mates, entering in the midst of the excitement.

“What’s the matter?” roared poor Tubbs.  “Everything is the matter, don’t you know.  It’s an ah—­outrage!”

“Somebody told me you had blacked up as a negro minstrel and were going to serenade your best girl.”

“It’s not so, Parkham.  Some beastly cadets played a joke on me!  Oh, wait till I find out who did it!” And then William Philander began to moan once more over the burrs.  It was a good quarter of an hour before he had his cot cleaned off and fit to use once more, and even then he was so excited and nervous he could not sleep another wink.

“William Philander won’t forget his last night with the boys in a hurry,” remarked Tom, as he slipped off to bed once more.

“You had better keep quiet over this,” came from Dick.  “We don’t want to spoil our records for the term, remember.”