Other tests were in leaping hurdles four feet high, and as the cadets vaulted, taking a suspending ring on a lance, in leaping clean over a running horse and in forming pyramids, with ten cadets on four horses.

The last test was, perhaps, the most difficult of all. It consisted in one cadet lying on the ground, and another riding toward him at full speed. The one on the horse had to pick up his comrade from the earth, by leaning over and grasping his up-stretched hand, and then a.s.sisting him up behind him on his horse, continuing to gallop away.

When it came d.i.c.k's turn he noticed, with some uneasiness, that the cadet he was to pick up, was one of the heaviest in the school, but he resolved to succeed, and he braced himself for the ordeal, as his horse galloped toward the prostrate youth.

As he neared the rec.u.mbent figure d.i.c.k leaned over, holding on as tightly as he could with his legs. His hand grasped the belt and part of the clothing of the cadet, and then d.i.c.k's arm felt as if it would be torn from the socket. He feared he would be dragged from his horse.

But, with a sudden pull, he lifted the lad from the ground and swung him upon his horse. There was some applause at d.i.c.k's feat, as his steed galloped on over the course.

"Guess I'm something of a load, old chap," said the cadet to d.i.c.k.

"You're no feather," was d.i.c.k's comment, as he halted his horse.

CHAPTER XVII

d.i.c.k IN TROUBLE

"Well, Hamilton, I think we shall admit you to membership in the prize troop," said Major Webster. "It was a severe test, and you did well."

"I'm glad you think so, sir," replied d.i.c.k, saluting.

There were some further trials, in some of them d.i.c.k acting the part of the reclining cadet. 'Gene Graham could not succeed in the test, and was rejected, much to his disappointment.

d.i.c.k was delighted to be a member of the prize troop for it brought with it many privileges; and there was a chance to take part in parades and similar affairs to which the other cadets were not admitted.

Very few freshmen had won the coveted honor, but it can not be said that d.i.c.k was received with open arms into the troop. Dutton and many of his friends belonged, and they had lost none of their unreasonable feeling against d.i.c.k. Still they did nothing more than turn a cold shoulder toward him, though this was enough to make the young millionaire miserable.

However, he managed to forget some of his bad feeling in antic.i.p.ation of another football game, which was to take place two days later. He hoped to get a chance to play, as, following a rather tame affair with a team which the Kentfield eleven "walked all over," there was to be the second of the championship contests with Mooretown.

This was a lively and strenuous game. Mooretown put in some new players, and, though they did not score in the first half, when Kentfield made one touchdown, the opponents of the cadet warriors of the gridiron took such a brace in the second that the score was ten to four, in favor of Mooretown, when the referee's whistle blew.

"What's the matter with your men?" asked Coach Hale of Captain Rutledge, after the game. "They couldn't hold those fellows for a cent."

"Too much beef for us," replied the captain.

"Yes, and they tore holes in your line that you could drive an ice wagon through," went on the coach. "Both your guards were weak. Hamilton should have been put in."

"I couldn't very well do it, when no men were hurt."

"No, I suppose not. But if the next game doesn't go better than this one did, I'll make a change. We can't afford to lose it."

"We shan't lose it," promised the captain, and d.i.c.k, who overheard what was said, hoped he would get a chance to play.

Meanwhile he reported regularly for practice, and was a tower of strength to the scrub eleven, many of the players on which, regardless of Dutton's influence, made of d.i.c.k a better friend than heretofore.

Several unimportant games followed, one of which resulted in a tie, Kentfield winning the others, and then came the occasion of the final struggle with Mooretown. It was the greatest game of the season, as it meant much to both academies.

The day before the contest d.i.c.k was surprised to receive a visit from Russell Glen, one of the freshmen cadets, who, hitherto, had scarcely taken the trouble to nod to him. Glen wanted to be considered a "sport,"

and d.i.c.k had heard that he had had a hand in taking Grit off to the dog fight.

"I had a letter from a friend of mine to-day," said Glen, by way of introduction, as he lolled in one of d.i.c.k's easy chairs. "It contained some surprising news."

"Yes?" asked d.i.c.k politely.

"Yes, it was from Guy Fletcher, of Hamilton Corners. He spoke of you, and asked me if I knew you."

"Well?" asked d.i.c.k, wondering what was coming.

"I was quite surprised to know that you and Guy were friends," went on Glen.

"Oh, yes, I've known Guy for some time," said d.i.c.k, not caring to go into particulars, and tell what a mean trick Guy, in company with Simon Scardale, had once played on him.

"So he says. He speaks very highly of you. I've known him for some time.

He and I used to be quite chummy. But I had no idea you and he lived in the same town, until he spoke of it in his letter. He mentioned that you attended this academy, and asked if I was acquainted with you. I wrote back and said that I was."

d.i.c.k looked rather surprised at this, as well he might, for, beyond a mere nod, Glen had never shown that he knew him.

"I don't suppose I am as well acquainted with you as I might be," went on the young "sport," calmly, "and that's my fault. I've been so busy attending to my studies, that I haven't had much time for social calls."

Neither had many of the other cadets, d.i.c.k thought bitterly.

"But I'll make amends now," went on Glen. "I want to get to know you better, because we both have the same friend in Guy Fletcher."

d.i.c.k didn't think it worth while to state that Guy was no particular friend of his, since certain happenings told of in the first volume of this series. But Glen continued:

"I wish you'd come to a little spread I'm giving to-night. Just a small affair for some of the freshmen."

"I'll come," promised our hero, glad of the chance to meet some of his cla.s.smates informally.

"It won't be as elaborate as the one I hear you gave," went on Glen, "for I'm not a millionaire," and he laughed. "But I'll do the best I can."

At first d.i.c.k thought he was going to have a good time at the affair, for the guests, most of whom were of the "sporting" element, greeted him cordially enough. But when Glen produced several bottles of beer, and some cigars, d.i.c.k felt uneasy.

It was an offense, calling for severe punishment, to have intoxicants or tobacco in the academy, and d.i.c.k realized that discovery might come any moment. Still, he did not want to bring upon himself ridicule, and perhaps anger, by leaving.

"Have some beer, Hamilton," urged Glen.

"It's the right sort of stuff. I had it smuggled in from town. And these are prime cigars. I snibbled some from dad's stock before I came away."

"No, thank you," replied d.i.c.k. "I don't care for any."

"What, don't you drink?"

"No."