eneral
review of the first half of the academic year. Dick and Greg got
through without these "writs." Bert Dodge was compelled to face
the written test in mathematics, but he made the grade and stayed
on. He was gratified, for thirty-one of the plebes were dropped
after this examination.

"I've got to stay on," Bert Dodge had ground out between his teeth.
"If I'm to be dropped from West Point, it must be after I've found a
way to send Dick Prescott back to Gridley ahead of me!"

Spring came, and still Bert's opportunity was lacking. He and Anstey
greeted each other, but that was about all the communication the two
held. Yet, one night, having noted the fact that for some time Dodge
had seemed depressed, the Virginian asked:

"What's wrong, Mr. Dodge? Anything in which another fellow
can lend a hand?"

"Nothing's wrong," replied Dodge shortly, and turned at once to his
books. Still his gloom continued, and one evening not long after
Anstey said to Dick and Greg:

"That townsman of yours is so deep in gloom that it's like living in
an unlighted cave to be in the same room with him. What's wrong,
do you suppose?"

"No telling," replied Dick. "Just disposition, I presume. He's no
longer a townsman of ours, by the way."

"Do you note really savage looks on his face?" put in Cadet
Holmes.

"Don't I, though!"

"Then Bert Dodge has a mean streak on and is plotting mischief
to some one!"

"Is he underhanded and treacherous?" demanded Anstey quickly.

Prescott hesitated a moment, then said:

"Perhaps you'd better keep your eyes open. You're pretty close to
him, and you don't want him to do anything to bring your record in
question. Still, so far as any of us knows, he's been honorable and
square here; so let's give the fellow his chance and say nothing to
prejudice any one else."

"You're right, Dick. Still, I wish something would pull the fellow
out of his gloom. It spreads thick through the whole room."

The truth was that because he could think of no feasible plan to
drive Prescott from the Military Academy, Bert Dodge had
become morose and irritable. But at last he thought he saw his
chance.

It was May when Greg Holmes received a telegram that an aunt of
his of whom he had always been fond had died. Another telegram
from Greg's father to Superintendent Martin asked that the boy be
allowed to go home for the funeral. After an inquiry as to Greg's
standing in class, Colonel Martin granted the permission