It must have been high," added Anstey pensively, "for I happened to turn over in bed this morning, and I saw old Dodge slipping back into the room about an hour before reveille." "Well, what's he mad about, now ?" demanded Dick.
"Why, he has been drawn for the new guard! He's on guard for to-day and to-night!" chuckled Anstey gleefully.

"Already dead for sleep, his official duties will keep him without much more sleep for twenty-four hours, or until the new guard goes on to-morrow.
Even then he'll have some other things to take up some of his time." By-and-by the tent was so much and well to rights that, when Cadet Corporal Brodie, of the new yearling class, looked in, he could find no fault with its appearance.
Dick sat down on his box.

Greg did the same.

Plebes are not allowed campstools in the summer encampment--probably on the theory that so much luxury would be certain to demoralize them.
"I'm going out for a wee bit stroll," drawled Anstey, after taking a look in the tiny soldier's mirror to see that his appearance was in apple-pie order.
"Don't make the mistake of forgetting, and calling on one of the new yearlings," cautioned Dick dryly.
"There's no trace of insanity in our family history," responded Anstey gravely, as he stepped outside.
Dick and Greg found they had much to talk about in comparing notes of what each had learned about the nature of duties in the summer camp.

They were still thus engaged when Anstey bounded back into the tent.