"Aw, you don't know what life is. Have a cigar then."

"No, I don't smoke, either."

"Humph! You're a regular molly-coddle, you are," said Glen, with a brutal laugh.

d.i.c.k flushed.

"Maybe," he admitted, as pleasantly as he could, "but I have an idea I shouldn't drink or smoke while in training, if for no other reason."

"Your training doesn't seem to be doing you much good," said another cadet. "You haven't had a show in any of the games yet. Better quit training and have some beer."

"No, thank you. Maybe I'll get a chance to play to-morrow."

But d.i.c.k's refusal had no effect on Glen's other guests. They drank more than was good for them, and smoked considerable. They were becoming rather noisy and silly, and d.i.c.k was in momentary terror lest some guard or instructor should come along and discover the violation of the rules.

The spread was held in an unused room, in the bas.e.m.e.nt of the east barrack, and, though permission for it had been given, the officer in charge of the building was supposed to keep a sort of lookout over such affairs.

If one of the cadet officers discovered the beer and cigars he would hardly "squeal" on his comrades, but one of the academy staff would not be so lenient.

The fun became more and more noisy, and d.i.c.k was thinking of withdrawing, no matter if he did offend his host, when he was saved the trouble by something that happened.

A cadet officer, who was on night guard knocked on the door, and when there came a sudden hush to the merry-making, he whispered that Major Webster was approaching, and would almost certainly discover the breach of rules.

"Quick fellows, get this stuff out of the way, and then skip!" cried Glen, and the boys quickly hid the beer bottles, and threw away their cigars. Then, by opening the windows, the smoke was gotten rid of, and the cadets prepared to disperse.

"I say, Hamilton," began Glen, a bit thickly, as he walked alongside d.i.c.k, to his room, "you couldn't lend me twenty-five dollars; could you?

I spent more on this racket than I intended, and I'm a bit short until I get my next allowance. I want to bet a little on the game to-morrow."

"I guess I can let you have it," said d.i.c.k good naturedly. "Come to my room, and I'll get it."

It was after ten o'clock, but as d.i.c.k had received permission to attend the spread, he had a permit to be out after taps. Paul, who had not been invited, was asleep when d.i.c.k and Glen entered.

"I say, Hamilton, you keep your room looking nice," said the "sport" as he looked around the neat apartment. "I'm always getting a mark at police inspection, for having something out of kilter. You and Drew are as neat as girls."

"Hush! Not so loud," cautioned d.i.c.k. "You'll wake, Paul."

"Aw, what's the odds. He'll go to sleep again. It's early yet. Be a sport!"

Glen was noisy from the beer which he had taken.

"Here is the money," said d.i.c.k, handing over some bills.

"Thanks, old chap. I'll see that you get it back all right."

"There's no hurry."

"All right; if I win, though, I'll pay you to-morrow. Do you think we'll lick Mooretown?"

"I hope so. But you'd better go to bed now."

"Me? Go to bed? Wha' for?"

"Well, it's getting late, and some one might come along. You'd better go."

"That's a' right. I'm goin'. You're a' right, Ham'ton. You're a' right.

You're sport!"

And, rather unsteady on his legs, poor, foolish Glen went away, much to d.i.c.k's relief.

"I don't much care for friends, such as he is," thought d.i.c.k, as he got into bed.

In his generousness it never occurred to him that Glen had cultivated his acquaintance merely that he might borrow money from him.

d.i.c.k was awakened by the clear, sweet notes of the bugle sounding reveille. He and Paul jumped out of bed, and were soon in their uniforms. Then they got their room in order for police inspection, which, on some days, was made while they were at breakfast. This was one of those occasions.

"There, I guess they can't find any fault with that," observed d.i.c.k, as he and his roommate, putting the finishing touches to their apartment, descended to form in line to march to the mess hall.

d.i.c.k was leaving the table, to attend chapel, when Cadet Captain Naylor, who was in charge of the police inspection, tapped him on the shoulder.

"Hamilton, report to Major Rockford," he said curtly.

"To Major Rockford? What for?"

"Room out of order."

"Room out of order?"

d.i.c.k knew that he and Paul had left their apartment in perfect trim.

But Captain Naylor did not answer, and d.i.c.k, with a heavy heart, started for the commandant's office. It was the first time he had been made to report for a breach of discipline of this sort.

CHAPTER XVIII

A DISMAL CHRISTMAS

"You are reported as not having your room in order, Hamilton," began Major Rockford, as d.i.c.k entered.

"I don't see how that can be, sir," replied d.i.c.k, saluting. "When Paul Drew and I left it for breakfast it was in order."

"Drew's side is yet, but your bureau is stated by Captain Naylor to be in great disorder."

"I--I left it in order, sir."

"Very well, we will go and take a look at it."