he same coin, Greg," warned
his chum. "Did you leave any girl---back in Gridley---or elsewhere."

"Dick, old ramrod," replied Cadet Holmes, frankly, as he finished
drawing on his glove, "I'm unpledged, and, to the best of my belief,
I'm wholly heart free."

"Look out that you keep so for two or three years more, then,"
laughed Dick, and Holmes, nodding lightly, strode away.

Despite the hop, there were some visitors in camp that evening.
Dick was presently invited over to join a group that was entertaining
three college boys who had dropped off at West Point for two or
three days.

Greg spent an hour or so at the hop. He was introduced to Miss
Wilton, a pretty, black-eyed little girl, and danced one number
with her. He presently secured another partner. But too many
of the cadets were "stagging it" that night. There were not feminine
partners enough to go around.

"My cue is to cut out, I guess," mused Greg, finding himself near
the entrance to the ballroom.

Once outside, Greg drew off his gloves, thrusting them in under
the breast of his gray uniform coat. He wasn't quite decided
whether to go back to Cullum later. But at present he wanted
to stroll in the dark and to think.

"I reckon I'll take Dick's line of philosophy, and cut girls a
good deal," decided Greg. "Yet, at West Point in the summer,
it's either girls or mischief. Mischief, if carried too far,
gets a fellow bounced out of the Academy, while girls---I wonder
which is safer?"

Still guessing, Cadet Holmes wandered a good way from Cullum Hall,
and was not again seen that night on the polished dancing floor.

* * * * * * * *

Anstey had gone visiting some other yearlings. Dick, after leaving
the college boys and their hosts, felt that a slow stroll outside of
camp would be one of the pleasantest ways of passing the time until
taps at 10.30. Even after the rain, the night was close and sultry.

"Don't you sing, Prescott?" called a first classman as Dick passed
near the head of the color line. "Some of our glee-club fellows
are getting together to try some old home songs."

But Dick shook his head. Though he possessed a fair voice, the
singing of sentimental or mournful ditties was not in his line
that night. He heard the strumming of guitars and mandolins as
he left camp behind.

Dick did not hurry, even to get away from the music. He kept
on up the road, and by the hotel, but was careful not to enter
the