lif in Africa alretty!"

"Oh, Hans must be cold!" cried Sam. "Let us shake him up, boys!"

"All right!" came from half a dozen. "Get a blanket, somebody!"

"No, you ton't, not by my life alretty!" sang out Hans, who had been
tossed up before. "I stay py der groundt mine feets on!" And he started
to run away.

Several went after him, and he was caught in the middle of an adjoining
cornfield, where a rough-and-tumble scuffle ensued, with poor Hans at
the bottom of the heap.

"Hi, git off, kvick!" he gasped. "Dis ton't been no footsball game
nohow! Git off, somebody, und dake dot knee mine mouth out of!"

"Are you warm, now, Hansy!" asked Tom.

"Chust you wait, Tom Rofer," answered the German cadet, and shook his
fist at his tormentor. "I git square somedimes, or mine name ain't--"

"Sauerkraut!" finished another cadet, and a roar went up. "Hans, is it
true that you eat sauerkraut three times a day when you are at home?"

"No, I ton't eat him more as dree dimes a veek," answered Hans,
innocently.

"Hans is going to treat us all to Limberger cheese when his birthday
comes," put in Fred Garrison. "It's a secret though, so don't tell
anybody."

"I ton't vos eat Limberger," came from Hans.

"Oh, Hansy!" groaned several in chorus.

"Base villain, thou hast deceived us!" quoted Songbird Powell. "Away to
the dungeon with him!" And then the crowd dragged poor Hans through the
cornfield and back to the camp-fire once more, where he was made to sit
so close to the blaze that the perspiration poured from his round and
rosy face. Yet with it all he took the joking in good part, and often
gave his tormentors as good as they sent.

"They tell me that William Philander Tubbs is going to Newport for the
summer," said Tom. a little later, when the cadets were getting ready
to retire. "Just wait till he gets back next Fall, he'll be more dudish
than ever."

"We ought to tame him a little before we let him go," said Sam.

"Right you are, Sam. But what can we do? Nearly everything has been
tried since we went into camp."

"I have a plan, Tom."

"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 j