Thorpe went out, after leaving his name for the time book, enlightened as to the method of obtaining supplies.

He promised himself some warm clothing from the van, when he should have worked out the necessary credit.
At supper he learned something else,--that he must not talk at table.
A moment's reflection taught him the common-sense of the rule.

For one thing, supper was a much briefer affair than it would have been had every man felt privileged to take his will in conversation; not to speak of the absence of noise and the presence of peace.

Each man asked for what he wanted.
"Please pass the beans," he said with the deliberate intonation of a man who does not expect that his request will be granted.
Besides the beans were fried salt pork, boiled potatoes, canned corn, mince pie, a variety of cookies and doughnuts, and strong green tea.
Thorpe found himself eating ravenously of the crude fare.
That evening he underwent a catechism, a few practical jokes, which he took good-naturedly, and a vast deal of chaffing.

At nine the lights were all out.