Trained to soldierly habits,
our two cadets had quickly dropped the furlough life. Citizen
clothes, in dress-suit cases, were deposited at the cadet store,
and the two cadets, back in "spooniest" white duck trousers and
gray fatigue blouses, were soon speeding along the roads that
led across the plain to where the other three classes were having
their last day of summer encampment.
"Greetings, old ramrod!" called a low but pleasant voice, as First
Classman Brayton hurried up, grasping Dick's hand. Then Greg
came in for a hearty shake. Brayton, who had been a cadet corporal
when the two boys from Gridley were plebes, now wore the imposing
chevrons of a cadet captain.
"My, but I'm glad to see you two idlers return to a fair measure
of work," laughed another voice, and Spurlock, whom Dick, as a
plebe, had thrashed, pushed his right hand into the ceremonies.
Spurlock, too, was a cadet captain. Other first classmen crowded
in for these returning furlough men were popular throughout the
upper classes.
"May a wee, small voice make itself heard?"
Dick and Greg half wheeled to meet another comer. Little Briggs,
a trifle less plump and correspondingly longer, stood before them,
grinning almost sheepishly.
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