.
It was the morning of his fight!

CHAPTER XV

GREG OVERHEARS A PRETTY GIRL'S TRIBUTE

In the tent it was still dark. It was at the fag-end of the night; the
time which, as military commanders know, most tries men's
bravery.

The latter part of the night had been cool. Now, in the brief space
before dawn the air was positively chilly.

Greg shivered.

Perhaps it was the chill of the air. It is also extremely likely that
Greg Holmes dreaded the conflict that was about to come off with
big Butler.

Be that as it may, Cadet Holmes went on briskly with his dressing.
The bravest man is he who, though afraid, goes straight ahead to
the goal of battle despite his fears.

Greg was more sensitive about blows than was his chum. Until he
got into the heat of action Cadet Holmes dreaded the very idea of
giving or taking a blow. There are many soldiers like this; but
when they get into action they are the bravest of the brave.

Dick and Anstey were also getting themselves swiftly in readiness.
To Dick, veteran of three West Point fights, the greatest cause for
regret seemed to lie in being robbed of some of their much-needed
sleep.

In almost no time, so it seemed, three cadets fully attired in
uniform, stole cautiously from the tent, slipping down the
company street.

Dick carried Greg's fighting clothes. Cadet Anstey carried a bucket
in which lay a sponge.

Whether cadet sentries on guard deliberately aid in letting fight
parties slip across a post it would be impossible to say. Certain it is
that Mr. Prescott, in the lead, reconnoitred carefully, then crossed
the post at the point furthest from the sentry's half-audible
footsteps. His two friends slipped over with him.

The faint gray of earliest dawn was just showing through the trees
when the plebe trio came in sight of the famous hollow below old
Fort Clinton.

Here already paced Mr. Plympton and Mr. Connors of the first
class. They were to take charge of the affair.

"Good morning, mister," nodded Mr. Plympton to Dick, as
Prescott came in sight at the head of his party. Greg and Anstey
came in for no particular notice from the first class men.

"Hullo, But!"

"Hullo, old Conjunction!"

These were the greetings that Butler received when he appeared,
followed by Haldane and Post. These young men, being yearlings,
were actually human beings. At least, that was the way the plebes
felt.

Now the stripping began rapidly. Each principal drew on