The Rover boys were to start for home the next day and that night a large number of the cadets held a special jollification on the parade ground in front of the Hall.  A bonfire was lit, and the lads danced around and sang to their hearts’ content.

In the midst of the excitement somebody saw Peleg Snuggers, the general-utility man of the school, hurrying across the backyard.

“Hullo, there goes Peleg!” was the shout.

“Let’s give him a rousing farewell, boys,” came from Tom Rover.  “Hi, there, Peleg, come here.”

“Can’t, I’m in a hurry,” responded the man-of-all-work, who had had the cadets plague him before.

“Oh, you must come,” was the cry, and in a moment more Peleg Snuggers was surrounded.

“Let us march him around on our shoulders,” went on Tom.  “Peleg loves that, I know he does.”

“Don’t, neither!” cried the general-utility man.  “Now, Tom Rover, you just let me alone.”

“We’ll carry you around for your rheumatism, Peleg.  You’ve got rheumatism, haven’t you?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“It’s good for the lumbago, too.”

“Ain’t got no lumba—­Oh, crickey!  Let me down, boys.  I don’t want a ride!”

“Behold, the conquering hero comes!” announced Sam, as six of the boys hoisted poor Snuggers up into the air.  “Now, sit up straight, Peleg.  Don’t you want a sword?”

“Here’s a broom,” put in Fred Garrison, and handed over an article which was worn to a stump.  “Present arms!  Forward, march!  General Washtub will lead the funeral procession.”

“If you let me tumble I’ll break my neck!” gasped Peleg Snuggers.  “Oh, creation!  How can I carry that broom and hold on, too!  This is awful!  Shall I call the captain?  Let up, I say!”

“Send for Mrs. Green to give him some soothing syrup, he’s got the fits,” came from a cadet in the crowd.

“I’ll get her,” cried Tom, struck with a new idea.

Off ran the fun-loving youth to the kitchen of the academy, where the matron was superintending the work of several of the hired girls.

“Oh, Mrs. Green, come quick!” he gasped, as he caught the lady by the arm.

“What is it, Tom?”

“It’s poor Peleg!  They say he’s got a fit!  He wants some soothing syrup, or something!”

“Well, I never!” ejaculated Mrs. Green.  “A fit!  Poor man!  Shall I ring for the doctor?”

“Perhaps you had better ring for two doctors, or else come and see if you can help him.”

“I’ll do what I can,” answered the matron, and ran to get some medicine from a chest.  “I know what it is,” she added.  “It’s indigestion.  He ate four ears of green corn for dinner and four for supper,—­and it was very green at that.”

“Then he will surely want Mrs. Green to help him,” murmured Tom.

Off hurried the matron with some medicine and Tom at her heels.

In the meantime the boys had marched poor Peleg close to the fire.