Your answer, mister, proves you to be guilty of egotism."

Then d.i.c.k, with the air of a judge, yet with a mocking pretence of gentleness and leniency sounding; in his voice, turned back to Plebe Briggs.

"Mr. Briggs, you will now proceed to relieve your animal spirits by some spirited animal conduct. The animal that you will represent will be the crab. Down on your face, mister!"

Flat on the floor lay Mr. Briggs. The yearlings outside, at the tent doorway, scenting something coming, peered in eagerly.

"Now, spread out your arms and legs, mister, just as any good crab should do. Raise your body from the floor. Not too much; about six inches will do. Now, mister, move about as nearly as possible in the manner of a crab. Stop, mister! Don't you know that a crab moves either backwards or sideways? It will not give enough vent to your animal spirits unless you move exactly as your model, the crab, does. Try it again, mister, and be painstaking in your imitation."

Mr. Briggs presented a most grotesque appearance as he crawled about over the floor in the very limited s.p.a.ce allowed him by the presence of so many others. The yearlings enjoyed it all in mirthful silence.

"As for you, mister," continued d.i.c.k, turning upon the uncomfortable Mr. Ellis, "your self-conceit so fills every part of your body that the only thing for you is to stand on your head. Go to the rear tentpole and stand on your head. You may brace your feet against the pole. But remain on your head until we make sure that all the conceit has run out of you!"

Mr. Briggs was still "crabbing it" over the floor. Every minute the task became more irksome.

"Up with you, mister," Prescott admonished. "No self-respecting crab, with an abundance of animal spirits, ever trails along the ground like that."

After some two minutes of standing on his head Mr. Ellis fell over sideways, his feet thudding.

"Up with you, sir," admonished d.i.c.k. "You are still so full of egotism that it sways you like the walking beam of a steamboat.

Up with you, mister, and up you stay until there is no ballast of conceit left in you."

Crab-crab-crab! Mr. Briggs continued to move sidewise and backward over the tent flooring.

Mr. Ellis was growing frightfully red in the face. But Prescott, from the remembrance of his own plebe days, knew to a dot how long a healthy plebe could keep that inverted position without serious injury. So the cla.s.s president, sitting as judge in the court of hazing, showed no mercy.

Some of the yearlings who stood outside peering in should have kept a weather eye open for the approach of trouble from tac.

quarters. But, as the ordeals of both of the once frisky plebes became more severe, the interest of those outside increased.

Crab-crab-crab! continued Mr. Briggs. It seemed to him as though his belt-line weighed fully a ton, so hard was it to keep his abdomen off the floor, resting solely on his hands and feet.

Mr. Ellis must have felt that conceit and he could never again be friends, judging by the redness of his face and the straining of his muscles.

An approaching step outside should have been heard by some of the yearlings looking in through the doorway, but it wasn't.

Then, all in an instant, the step quickened, and Lieutenant Topham, O.C. for the day, made for the tent door!

CHAPTER XI

LIEUTENANT TOPHAM FEELS QUEER

Yearling Kelton barely turned his head, but he caught sight of the olive drab of the uniform of the Army officer within a few feet.

Pretending not to have seen the officer, Cadet Kelton drew in his breath with a sharp whistle. It was not loud, but it was penetrating, and it carried the warning.

Swift as a flash Prescott caught upside-down Mr. Ellis, and fairly rolled him out under the canvas edge at the back of the tent.

Greg instantly shoved the prostrate Mr. Briggs through by the same exit.

Fortunately both plebes were too much astonished to utter a sound.

"Crouch and scowl at me, Greg---hideously whispered alert-witted d.i.c.k."

As he spoke, Prescott swiftly crouched before Holmes. d.i.c.k's hands rested on his knees; he stuck out his tongue and scowled fiercely at Holmes, who tried to repay the compliment with interest.

Although all the yearlings in the tent had been "scared stiff"

at Kelton's low, warning signal, all, by an effort, laughed heartily, their gaze on Prescott and Holmes.

"Yah!" growled d.i.c.k. "Perhaps I did steal the widow's chickens, and I'll even admit that I did appropriate the pennies from her baby's bank. But that's nothing. Tell 'em about the time you stole the oats from the blind horse's crib and put breakfast food in its place."

Everyone of the yearlings in the tent knew that trouble stood at the door, and that they must keep up the pretence.

There was a chorus of laughter, and two or three applauded.

"I did---admit it," bellowed Greg. "But you stand there and admit the whole shameful truth about the time that you-----"

"Attention!" called Kelton, turning, then recognizing Lieutenant Topham and saluting. "The officer in charge!"

On the jump every yearling inside turned and stood rapidly at attention.

"Gentlemen, I'm sorry to have spoiled the show," laughed Lieutenant Topham. He had seen the shadows of Briggs and Ellis on the canvas, and had expected to drop in upon a different scene. But now this tac. was wholly disarmed. He honestly believed that he had stumbled upon a party of yearlings having a good time with a bit of nonsensical dialogue.

"Mr. Prescott! Mr. Holmes!"

"Sir?" answered both yearlings, saluting.

"I will suggest that you two might work up the act you were just indulging in. You ought to raise a great laugh the next time a minstrel show is given by the cadets."

"Thank you, sir"---from both "performers."

Lieutenant Topham turned and pa.s.sed on down the company street.

The two expelled plebes, in the meantime, had a chance to slip off silently. Even had Briggs and Ellis been inclined to "show up" their hazers, they knew too well the fate that would await such a pair of plebes at the hands of the cadet corps.

"That shows how easily a suspicious man's eyes may deceive him,"

mused Lieutenant Topham as he walked along.

Kelton now allowed his gaze to follow the retreating O.C., while the yearlings in the tent stood in dazed silence. They were still panting over the narrow escape from a sc.r.a.pe that might have cost them their places on the roll of the battalion.

"Safe!" whispered Kelton. "You may thank your deliverers."

Then, indeed, the other yearlings pressed about Prescott and Holmes, hugging them and patting them extravagantly.

When Lieutenant Topham returned to his tent, he found Captain Bates there, with a visitor. By the time that he had stepped inside, Topham also discovered the presence of the K.C. likewise engaged.

"I've just had a good lesson in the pranks that a man's eyes and ears may play upon him," announced Topham, unbelting his sword.