oor b.j. lamb falling into the hands
of the yearlings! What'll they ever do with him?"

"Greg, it has been hard enough on us to get used to the new ways
at West Point. But we'll never mind anything during the rest of our
plebedom. No matter what happens to us we'll just remember how
much more is bound to happen to pompous old Dodge."

Dick returned to his table, picking up his text-book on French.
Greg honestly tried to study, but every other minute he simply had
to stop to laugh at the thought of Bert and his pompous ways.

Finally, when he could restrain himself no longer, Greg broke
forth:

"Dick, old ramrod, no matter what happens to me, now I can stand
it by thinking of Bert Dodge being here!"

"I hope he doesn't start his old tactics of making trouble," muttered
Cadet Prescott.

"If he does, he'll have most of the trouble in his own possession,"
grinned Greg. "West Point is a place where manliness has the only
real show."

"Yes, but a sneak can make an awful lot of trouble," sighed Dick.
"Not that I mean to call Dodge a sneak, though. I am in hopes that
he'll prove anything but that. From the minute that a fellow enters
the Military Academy he starts in life all over again. So,
remember, Greg, we won't be prepared to hate or distrust Dodge,
and we'll lose a hand before we'll utter a word against him, based
on anything that happened in the past."

"That's the square deal, and the West Point ideal," nodded Greg,
who was rapidly forgetting the letter, the fragments of which were
now in his waste basket. "Who knows but that, in this new
atmosphere, Bert Dodge may turn out to be a man? West Point will
do that very thing for him, if any new surroundings can."

As the battalion marched to supper that night Bert Dodge felt in
his heart that hazing must already have started for him; for, being
the only candidate left at West Point, and having no uniform as
yet, Dodge was compelled to march, in his rather gay "cit." attire,
at the extreme end of the battalion line.

Bert did not march quite alone, however.

Just behind him, majestic, unbending, lynx-eyed and exacting,
marched Cadet Corporal Spurlock, who was known as the "worst"
(strictest) of the Yearling cadet officers.

"Chest out, Mr. Dodge! Don't wobble so at the knees, sir! Can't
you carry yourself straight? Take your chin away from your
chest, Mr. Dodge. Try to keep step, sir. Follow my count--hep! hep!
hep! hep! Mr. Dodge, you're out of step! When I