nt was certain to be a wild night.

It happened that Fred Davis had been assigned to guard duty on this
particular night, and, for a long time, none of the disturbances took
place on his post.

At length, however, when things had been quiet for an ominous length of
time, Fred saw three figures coming swiftly toward him through the
darkness.

"Halt!" he commanded, promptly. "Who comes there?"

"The corporal of the guard," was the reply, given in a muffled tone of
voice.

"Advance, corporal of the guard, and give the countersign."

Then followed a suspicious hesitation. Fred fancied he heard a faint
sound in his rear, but, before he could make a move, a blanket was
thrown over his head, and he was hurled to the ground.

He struggled with surprising strength, but he was helpless in the hands
of his assailants. His musket had been torn from his hands, and he
seemed to feel something slitting and tearing his clothing. Once he
was struck or kicked with great violence.

After a few moments of this treatment, Davis managed to get his head
clear of the enfolding blanket and shout for help. His cries produced
another alarm in camp, and his assailants quickly took to flight,
leaving him in a badly battered condition.

Fred got upon his feet, and was standing dazed and bewildered when the
corporal of the guard actually appeared, with the guard at his back.

Lieutenant Gordan, who had been on the alert for another outbreak,
showed up at the same time; but Davis was so bewildered that it was
several moments before he could answer their questions.

It was finally found that he had been robbed of his gun, his belt
slashed, and his uniform cut in half a dozen different places, so it
was quite ruined.

By this time Lieutenant Gordan was thoroughly angry, and he declared he
would give his time and attention during the next week to the discovery
and punishment of the perpetrators of the outrage.

"There is going to be an end to this hazing of sentries," he asserted.
"Somebody shall be made an example of, and we'll see if that will do
any good."

Fred was told to go to his tent and get to bed, and he was only too
glad to do so.

Somehow, in the morning, the report got around that Davis had been
stabbed or cut in the attack upon him. Frank lost no time in
investigating, finding his fag attending to duties about his own tent.

In answer to Merriwell's questions, Fred said he had not been cut in
any way, but his clot