Matters more quickly adjusted themselves following the opening of the winter term, than they did at the beginning of the fall one, as there were fewer new cadets. Lessons were quickly under way, together with a few drills, out of doors when the weather permitted it, otherwise in the big hall.

The lake froze over, and d.i.c.k and the other lads had their fill of skating, races being held every afternoon. In a number of these, particularly the long distance ones, d.i.c.k came in a winner.

Then there were s...o...b..ll fights between the different companies, both on foot and mounted on horses, with wooden shields. These were lively affairs, and were enjoyed by all.

d.i.c.k took his part in the winter sports, but, though he had increased his friends by the addition of several freshmen, particularly Payson Emery, the lad whose knocking down by Dutton he had resented, he made no progress toward getting intimate with the uppercla.s.smen.

"But I've got half a term yet," thought d.i.c.k.

With the advent of winter, affairs in the town of Kentfield, which was about two miles from where the academy was located, became more lively.

There were theatrical and other entertainments, and the cadets, when they could not get permission to attend these, used to run the guard.

Usually there was little risk in this, as the cadet officers would not report their friends, unless some member of the academy faculty happened to hear a late-staying party come sneaking in, and then the young officer on guard knew he had to make some sort of a report or be punished himself.

One night there was a large and rather fashionable dance given in town, by some friends of Dutton's family. He was invited, together with some of his cronies, but he was refused permission to go, as he had broken several rules of late.

"Well, I'm going anyhow," he announced to Stiver. "I guess I can run the guard all right, and get back. There are some girls I want to meet."

So Dutton and Stiver, and one or two others, went.

d.i.c.k was on guard, as it happened, at the barracks where Dutton and the others had their rooms. He was patrolling his post long after midnight, expecting soon to be relieved, when he saw some shadowy forms stealing along the hedge.

"Halt!" he cried, bringing his rifle up.

"Gee! It's Hamilton!" he heard some one say, and he recognized Stiver's voice.

"Then I guess it's all up with us," announced Dutton, straightening up, and, with his chums, approaching d.i.c.k.

The young millionaire said nothing.

"Are you going to let us in? We haven't the countersign," said Dutton, with an uneasy laugh.

"You can go in," replied d.i.c.k, producing the key to the front door.

"And I suppose you'll squeal in the morning," went on Dutton, as he and his cronies entered.

d.i.c.k didn't answer.

"You should have known better than to risk going, Dutton," said Stiver.

"Of course he'll tell. He owes you too much not to."

But d.i.c.k didn't tell, and Dutton's breach of discipline was not discovered.

CHAPTER XXI

THE FANCY DRESS BALL

"Well, d.i.c.k," remarked Paul Drew, one afternoon, as he and his roommate came in from drill, "I see you're on the ball committee."

"What ball, and what committee?"

"The fancy dress ball, if I have to go into all the details. You know the academy has one every year, and it's a swell affair, let me tell you. Lights, gay music, pretty girls----"

"Especially pretty girls," said d.i.c.k with a smile. "But what committee am I on?"

"Arrangements. Didn't you see the list posted in the mess hall? I don't envy you. There will be lots to do."

"Suppose you take pity on my ignorance, and go a little more into details."

Whereupon Paul did, describing the affair at length. It was to take place, as usual, in February, and this time would be held on Washington's birthday.

"Maybe we won't have fun!" exclaimed Paul. "There'll be all sorts of costumes, and the decorations will be immense. You'll have to help with them."

"Then I'd better get busy," declared d.i.c.k. "I must see who's chairman of my committee, and report for work. What character are you going to portray, Paul?"

"I think I shall go as a Colonial officer. I always did like a powdered wig."

"Talc.u.m powder, instead of gun powder," retorted d.i.c.k. "That's the calibre of such tin soldiers as you."

"Halt!" called Paul, as d.i.c.k prepared to run away. "As punishment I'll not introduce you to a certain pretty girl I know, who is coming to the dance."

"Then I'll surrender and beg your pardon!" cried d.i.c.k.

"What part will you play?" asked Paul. "You'd look swell dressed as an Indian."

"I think I'll take the part of a cannon swab, and then I'll not have to bother about a suit. But more of that later. I'm going to see what I have to do."

d.i.c.k found out from the chairman of his committee that there was plenty of work to prepare for the fete, and he did his share. One day he had to go to a nearby town to purchase some of the decorations.

It was two days before the fancy dress ball was to take place, and, having made his purchases, d.i.c.k prepared to return to the Academy. As he was about to board a trolley car, which ran near Kentfield, he heard a voice calling:

"How are you, d.i.c.k Hamilton?"

He turned, to see a tall, well-built lad, of about his own age, who was smiling at him in a friendly fashion. At first he did not recognize the youth.

"You don't know me, I see," went on the other. "I once had the pleasure of interviewing you about a gold brick game----"

"Why, Larry Dexter! How are you?" cried d.i.c.k, turning aside from the car, and holding out his hand to the other. "I did not get a good look at you, or I would have known you at once. What good wind blows you here? Can't you stay and come over to our Academy? Where have you been?

How is the newspaper business?"

"My, you'd do for a reporter yourself!" exclaimed Larry Dexter, with a smile. "I'm glad you haven't forgotten me though. Have you been swindled lately? I'd like a good story. The one I came down here after didn't pan out."

Those of you who have read my books in the "Newspaper Series" will at once recognize the lad who greeted d.i.c.k. He was Lawrence Dexter, a reporter on the New York _Leader_, and, as related in the volume called "d.i.c.k Hamilton's Fortune," he had met our hero when the latter had narrowly escaped being swindled by a sharper in the metropolis. Larry, as all his friends called him, had managed to get a good "story" from the experience of d.i.c.k, who was on a visit to New York, with a number of boy friends. The incident is mentioned in the third volume of the Newspaper Series, "Larry Dexter's Great Search," where the young reporter does some detective work.