two V's on his sleeve, and
I remember that they were yellow. What kind of an officer is
the man who wears the two yellow V's?"

"A non-commissioned officer, Mrs. Davidson; a corporal of cavalry."

"Was he higher that you'll be when you graduate from West Point?"

"No; a corporal is an enlisted man, a step above the private soldier.
The sergeant is also an enlisted man, and above the corporal.
Above the sergeant comes the second lieutenant, who is the lowest-ranking
commissioned officer."

"Oh, I am sure I never could understand it all," sighed Mrs. Davidson.
"Why don't they have just plain soldiers and captains, and put
the captains in a different color of uniform? Then ordinary people
could comprehend something about the Army. But in describing that
young soldier's uniform, I forgot something, Mr. Prescott. That
young soldier, or officer, or whatever he was, beside the two
yellow V's, had a white stripe near the hem of his cuff."

"Just one white stripe?" queried Dick.

"Just one, I am sure."

"Then that one white stripe would show that the corporal, before
entering the cavalry, had served one complete enlistment in the
infantry."

"Oh, this is simply incomprehensible!" cried the new pastor's wife
in comical dismay. "I am certain that I could never learn to know
all these things."

"It is a little confusing at first," smiled Dick's mother with
another show of pride. "But I think I am beginning to understand
quite a lot of it."

Mrs. Davidson went out of the bookstore conducted by Dick's parents
in the little city of Gridley. Dick sighed a bit wearily.

"Why don't Americans take a little more pains to understand things
American?" he asked his mother, with a comical smile. "People
who would be ashamed not to know something about St. Peter's,
at Rome, or the London Tower, are not quite sure what the purpose
of the United States Military Academy is."

Yet, though some people annoyed him with their foolish questions,
he was heartily glad to be back, for the summer, in the dear old
home town. So was his chum, Greg Holmes, also a West Point cadet,
and, like Prescott, a member of the new second class at the United
States Military Academy. Both young men had now been in Gridley
for forty-eight hours. They had met a host old-time friends,
including nearly all of the High School students of former days.

Readers of "_Dick Prescott's First Year at West Point_" and of "_Dick
Prescott's Second Year at W