Each man take a blanket and wrap it around himself while waiting." Some of the young men looked startled, but all obeyed.

In this stripping, and in the varied degrees of orderliness with which the different stacks of discarded clothing were piled it was rather easy to pick out the young men who had previously undressed in the dressing quarters of schools or colleges where athletics are a big feature.
"If we had a few tom-tom players we'd be ready with a fine imitation of an Indian war dance," muttered one of the candidates, gazing about him at his blanketed companions.

There was a laugh, of course.

These highly nervous youngsters were ready to laugh at anything just now.
"Is Mr.Geroldstone ready ?" asked the hospital orderly, marching into the room.
"I will be, in five minutes or so," replied Geroldstone, slowly pulling his shirt off over his head.
"Mr.Danvers, then," called the orderly, consulting a slip of paper in his right hand.
Candidate Frank Danvers, a good-looking young man, self-contained, slight of build, not very tall, but very black as to hair, stepped forward.
"In here, sir," requested the hospital orderly, holding open the door.
After Danvers had gone the other young men held their breath for a few moments--all except Geroldstone, who was still leisurely disrobing.
Back came Danvers after a few moments.

Every candidate in the room looked at him inquiringly.
"Yes, gentlemen; I'm very happy to say that I passed," nodded Danvers, as he sprang across the room and began to don his clothes once more.
"Mr.Geroldstone!" called the orderly, and the big candidate went in.
An anxious twenty minutes passed--anxious alike for Geroldstone and for those who still dangled on tenterhooks in the outer room.
At last the candidate under fire came out, a sickly grin on his face.
Though the others looked at him curiously, not a word did Geroldstone offer.
"The big fellow has failed; I'll bet," muttered Greg Holmes.