Gus Murray went straight to his tent when the group broke up. He hastily dusted off his clothes and looked at himself in the glass to make sure that nothing was out of place. Then he took up his gun from the rack and hurried out to "fall in."

A moment later the order was given, "'Tention company!" and after roll call the battalion wheeled and marched out upon the parade ground.

The ceremony of dress parade has been described in these pages before. The solemn cadet adjutant formed the parade and then turned it over to his superior. The gayly-dressed band marched down the line and took its station. A few moments later the battalion was in the midst of its evolutions.

It was not very long before they halted again, down toward the southern end of the plain, to go through the manual of arms. It was then that Gus Murray received a shock.

The cadets had been marching with their guns at a "carry." Gus had held his that way ever since he picked[Pg 257] it up, and then suddenly the lieutenant in command gave the order:

"Present—arms!"

In a "carry" the soldier holds his gun in the right hand, with thumb and first finger around the trigger guard. In coming to "present" he swings it up in front of him and seizes the stock in the left hand, at the same time letting go with the right and reversing his grip.

The cadet lines work like a perfect machine in that drill. Every gun swings up at the same instant, every hand moves in unison, so that the sound of the many motions is but one. This time, however, there was a break, and the cause of it was our dear friend Gus.

Gus got through the first part of the motion all right. On the second part he got "stuck"—in more senses than one. When he went to let go with his right hand—he couldn't!

At first he could hardly understand what was happening. He pulled and tugged with all his might. But it did no good; his hand was fast. And in an instant the horrible truth flashed over him—Mallory—he had polished the gun with glue!

Every spectator on the grounds was staring at Gus. As for him, he was still tugging and wrestling, blushing, and gasping with rage. Finally he saw that his efforts[Pg 258] were useless, and he gave it up in despair; he stood silent and helpless, gazing into space.

Lieutenant Ross was the name of tac in command, and he was noted for being a crank. He gave no more orders, of course, but stood and stared at the offending cadet in horror and indignation, while the cadets, who did not dare to look, but who knew that something was "up," waited and wondered.

How long this suspense and torture would last no one could tell; the tac broke in at last.

"Mr. Murray!" he demanded. "What is the matter?"

"My gun!" stammered Murray. "I—I—why—that is——"

"Mr. Murray, leave the ranks!"

Blushing scarlet, the yearling obeyed, conscious of the fact that hundreds of eyes were upon him. He strode furiously down the line and once clear, set out on a run for camp, almost ready to cry with vexation. He reached his tent, rushed in, tore off his glove, and hurled his musket into the corner. And then he stood in the middle of his tent and clinched his fists until his nails cut the palms of his hands.

"By Heaven!" he cried, "I'll be revenged on that plebe if I have to kill him to do it!"

He stayed in his tent, nursing his wrath and resentment, until the battalion marched back to camp. And he re[Pg 259]fused to come out then; his classmates who inquired as to what was the matter received angry replies for their pains. And when the corps marched down to supper Murray still sat where he was. He didn't want any supper.

He was in just the mood to welcome a visitor who came then. The visitor was Murray's chum and crony, Bull Harris.

"Hello, old man," said he, pushing aside the tent flap. "What's up?"

"Go to blazes!" responded Murray, by way of answer.

"Come, come," said Bull, pleasantly. "You don't want to get mad with me, Gus. Tell me what's wrong."

"It's that confounded plebe!" snapped Murray.

"I thought so," said Bull. "Well, that's what my news is about. I've got a plot."

And the other's sullen glare gave place to a look of delight in an instant. He leaped to his feet with an exclamation of joy.

"By George, I knew it!" he cried. "Quick! quick! Out with it! Nothing's too desperate for me to-night."

"That's good," chuckled Bull. "Very good. Come, let us go and take a walk. This is a long story; and no one must overhear it, either."

Such is the effect of bad motives upon men. Those two precious rascals stooped instinctively as they hurried[Pg 260] down the company street and dodged out of camp. Bull led his company down through "Flirtation Walk" and out to the far end of it. Here they scrambled down the hillside until they were in a lonely, deserted glen almost at the river's edge. It was already growing dark with the shadows of the evening. And here Bull stopped and took a se............