“All right; let’s have it.”

“Why not black Tubby up while he is asleep?”

“Sam, you are a jewel.  But where are we to get the lamp-black?”

“I’ve got it already.  I put several corks in the camp-fire, and burnt cork is the best stuff for blacking up known.”

“Right again.  Oh, but we’ll make William Philander look like a regular negro minstrel.  And that’s not all.  After the job is done we’ll wake him up and tell him Captain Putnam wants to see him at once.”

Several boys were let into the secret, and then all waited impatiently for Tubbs to retire.  This he soon did, and in a few minutes was sound asleep.

“Now then, come on,” said Sam, and led the way to carry out the anticipated fun.

CHAPTER III

THE DOINGS OF A NIGHT

As luck would have it, William Philander Tubbs just then occupied a tent alone, his two tent-mates being on guard duty for two hours as was the custom during encampment.

The aristocratic cadet lay flat on his back, with his face and throat well exposed.

“Now, be careful, Sam, or you’ll wake him up,” whispered Tom.

One cadet held a candle, while Sam and Tom blackened the face of the sleeping victim of the joke.  The burnt cork was in excellent condition and soon William Philander looked for all the world like a coal-black darkey.

“Py chimanatics, he could go on der stage py a nigger minstrel company,” was Hans Mueller’s comment.

“Makes almost a better nigger than he does a white man,” said Tom, dryly.

“Wait a minute till I fix up his coat for him,” said Fred Garrison, and turned the garment inside out.

A moment later all of the cadets withdrew, leaving the tent in total darkness.  Then one stuck his head in through the flap.

“Hi, there, Private Tubbs!” he called out.  “Wake up!”

“What—­ah—­what’s the mattah?” drawled the aristocratic cadet, sleepily.

“Captain Putnam wants you to report to him or to Mr. Strong at once,” went on the cadet outside, in a heavy, assumed voice.

“Wants me to report?” questioned Tubbs, sitting up in astonishment.

“Yes, and at once.  Hurry up, for it’s very important.”

“Well, this is assuredly strange,” murmured William Philander to himself.  “Wonder what is up?”

He felt around in the dark for a light, but it had been removed by Tom and so had all the matches.

“Beastly luck, not a match!” growled Tubbs, and then began to dress in the dark.  In his hurry he did not notice that his coat was inside out, nor did he discover that his face and hands were blacked.

Captain Putnam’s quarters were at the opposite end of the camp, and in that direction William Philander hurried until suddenly stopped by a guard who chanced to be coming in from duty.

“Halt!” cried the cadet.  “What are you doing in this camp?” he demanded.