At d.i.c.k's spread, that night, only a few freshmen came, and, though they tried to be jolly, the affair was a dismal failure, after the elaborate preparations that had been made. None of Dutton's friends came, and not a member of the sporting element.

"Dutton told 'em to stay away," said Paul, as he and d.i.c.k went to their room, after it was all over.

"I suppose so," answered d.i.c.k gloomily, and there was a heavy feeling in his heart, that the thought of all his wealth could not lighten.

He was beginning to realize what it meant to fulfill the conditions of his mother's will.

CHAPTER XII

AN ANGRY FARMER

"Say, d.i.c.k," remarked Paul, the next morning, as they leaped out of bed at the sound of the bugle giving the first call, "that spread must have cost you a pretty penny."

"I don't mind that a bit," replied the young millionaire, as he struggled into his uniform. "I'd be willing to spend a lot more if only the fellows would have come. But there's no use crying over spilled milk, as my dad says. Hurry up, Paul. Get this room in shape, or we'll be in for some bad marks at inspection."

The cadets quickly had their apartment in good order, and then got ready for breakfast.

They were a fine lot of cadets who filed into the mess hall a little later, well set-up young fellows, each with his uniform spick and span, marching with regular step that nearly approached the perfection of the trained soldier. For, such was the discipline at Kentfield, that even green lads quickly fell into the routine, and by this time d.i.c.k and the other freshmen carried themselves almost as well as did the senior students.

"Ah, that'll be some fun," remarked Paul, as they were leaving the mess-hall after the meal.

"What?" asked d.i.c.k.

"Target practice. There's a notice on the bulletin board that we're to have it right after the first study period. Are you a good shot?"

"I used to be, but the guns here are heavier than I'm accustomed to. I don't believe I can do as well."

"Oh, I guess you can. I hear that some of the third year lads can't do very extra."

There were two target ranges at Kentfield, one for long distance shooting, in the open, and the other in a rifle pit, indoors. It was there that a number of the cadets and their officers a.s.sembled a little later. Toots, who was a sort of janitor about the pits, was on hand.

"Ah, Toots, going to show us how to shoot to-day?" asked a student.

"Sure," replied Sam. "I'll give you a few lessons. Lend me your gun."

"Here you go, Tootsy old chap," added another cadet, pa.s.sing over his rifle.

As all the cadets had not yet arrived discipline was rather lax, and the officers made no objection.

"Here's where I crack the bullseye first shot!" exclaimed Toots. He handled the gun as though he had long been used to it, and took quick aim. A sharp report followed, but there was no corresponding "ping" of the target to indicate a shot.

"Ha! Ha! Toots, you missed it altogether," cried Russell Glen, a first-year and somewhat sporty student in d.i.c.k's cla.s.s.

"No, I didn't neither!" objected Sam. "It went clean through the target, that's why you didn't hear it. I'm a crack shot I am."

He really appeared to believe it, and was much disappointed when the marker called back that the bullet had gone about a foot over the target.

"Try again, Toots," said Glen.

"I will. This time I'll go right in the center."

Once more he fired, and the resulting laugh told that he had again missed.

"I guess this is your off day," observed Captain Dutton.

"Looks like it," remarked Toots ruefully, as he walked off, whistling "In a Prison Cell I Sit," and ending with the bugle call to charge.

The target practice soon began, and d.i.c.k, to his own surprise, made a good score, getting forty-nine out of a possible fifty.

"We have decided to have a practice march, around the lake, to-morrow,"

Major Webster announced to the cadets after target practice was over.

"Fatigue uniforms of khaki will be worn, and the affair will last all day. Lunch will be taken in the field. You know the regulations, Captain Dutton, so inform your command of them, and be ready after reveille to-morrow."

The major paused, Captain Dutton saluted, and his superior officer turned away, his sword clanking at his heels.

"A practice march!" exclaimed Paul to d.i.c.k. "That will be sport."

"It sure will," added d.i.c.k.

"Silence in the ranks;" cried Dutton, in a dictatorial manner.

"Lieutenant Stiver, watch Hamilton, I think he talks altogether too much."

It was an unjust accusation, but d.i.c.k knew better than to answer back.

That afternoon further instructions were issued regarding the practice march. The cadets would take one ration with them, and a wagon containing utensils for making coffee, etc., would accompany the amateur soldiers. They would have their rifles with them, and, during the day would have practice in skirmish firing, in throwing up trenches, and advancing on an imaginary enemy.

They started off soon after breakfast, led by Colonel Masterly, Major Rockford and Major Webster, while the cadet officers were in charge of the four companies, A, B, C and D.

It was a fine day in October, just right for a march, and the cadets presented a neat appearance, as, headed by the superior officers on horseback, they marched along the sh.o.r.es of the lake, off towards a wooded plain. The boys were attired in blue flannel shirts, khaki trousers and leggings.

"I hope they have more of these hikes before winter," remarked Paul to d.i.c.k.

"'Hike?' is that what you call 'em?"

"That's what the regulars do. It's a good name, I think."

"It sure is. Say, you get a fine view of the lake here."

The boys talked on, for there were no rules against it, and the experience of the march was a new one for many of them, including d.i.c.k.

They reached some suitable ground about ten o'clock and on orders from Major Webster the companies were formed into one command, under his direction. Then, an imaginary enemy having been located in a clump of woodland, the cadets were sent forward on the run, in skirmish parties, firing at will, and in volleys.

"Advance, and form trenches!" suddenly ordered the major.