nted Corporal Hyman. "Did you ever see a
country where the rain fell as steadily when it got started?"

"Well, this is the rainy season, isn't it?" inquired Noll.

"Yes."

"But half of the year we have a dry season, don't we?"

"We do," admitted Hyman. "Yet, of the two, you'll prefer the wet season
a whole lot. In the dry season the dust is blowing in your face day and
night."

An orderly stepped briskly out on the veranda.

"Sergeant Overton is directed to report immediately to Lieutenant
Prescott at the latter's quarters."

"I'll be there before the words are out of your mouth, Driggs," laughed
Hal, rising and starting.

"Hold on, Sarge," called Private Kelly. "Look at the sheets of dew
coming down, and you haven't your poncho. Here, put mine on."

"Thank you; I will," Hal assented, halting.

The poncho is a thin rubber, blanket-like affair. In the field the men
usually spread the poncho on the ground, under their blankets. But in
the middle of the poncho is a hole through which the head may be thrust,
the poncho then falling over the trunk of the body like a rain coat.

Getting this on and replacing his campaign hat, Hal started briskly
toward officers' quarters.

Lieutenant Prescott was in his room when Hal knocked, and promptly
called, "Come in."

Hal entered, saluting his lieutenant, who was writing at a table. He
looked up long enough to receive and return Hal's soldierly salute.

"With you in a moment, Sergeant," stated Lieutenant Prescott, who then
turned back to his writing.

"Very good, sir."

Hal did not stir, but merely changed from his position of attention to
one of greater ease.

Lieutenant Prescott is no stranger to our readers. He was second
lieutenant of Captain Cortland's B Company of the Thirty-fourth. Readers
of our "HIGH SCHOOL BOYS SERIES" recall Dick Prescott as a schoolboy
athlete, and readers of the "WEST POINT SERIES" have followed the same
Dick Prescott through his four years of cadetship at the United States
Military Academy.

After finishing a page and signing it, Lieutenant Prescott wiped his
pen, laid it down and wheeled about in his chair.

"You heard about Sergeant Gray?" asked the young West Pointer.

"Nothing in especial, sir."

"He was badly hurt ten minutes ago in stopping the runaway horses of
Colonel Thorpe, of the Thirty-seventh Infantry. Colonel Thorpe was
visiting our colonel, and only the two little Thorpe youngsters were in
the carriage when the h