The straw men who got away from you made their way into camp, didn't they ?" "Whoever escaped, sir, got into camp all right." As the guard-house party returned, Dick resumed the pacing of number three.

He felt his face still blazing, from the quiet ridicule of the officer of the day.
"I'll catch it to-morrow from everyone who thinks me worth noticing," growled the plebe to himself.

"However, though I tried to do my full duty, I'm glad that was what I caught.

I wouldn't care to march a comrade in, a prisoner." When the midnight relief came around, and Prescott's relief was posted in his place, the young plebe knew the ordeal ahead of him.
As soon as the relieved squad was halted at the guard tent, and Dick entered to get himself a cup of coffee and a sandwich or two, his glance fell upon the stuffed figure, which reposed on the floor at the back of the tent as though it had been a veritable prisoner.
"Did you shoot it, Prescott ?" asked Derwent, the man who had just been relieved on number four.
"No; he lassoed it with his neck-tie," jeered another man of the guard.
"Wonder if the prisoner is hungry!" pursued Derwent.

"Prescott, the prisoner is yours.