Although I believe it's forbidden for any candidate, or cadet, either, to eat his breakfast in bed." "Quit your 'kidding,'" begged Greg.
"I don't know that the authorities will bother to feed us, anyway, until we've passed and it's known that we are going to stay and be cadets," laughed young Prescott, feeling around his belt-line, for he, too, was hungry.
"Candidates turn out promptly!" rang, from below, a voice full of military command.
Greg was in the middle of a comforting yawn and stretch.

He dallied to finish it, but Dick, snatching down his overcoat and hat, was already out on the landing and racing below, while behind him floated the advice: "Come on, Greg! Get a boost on!" "Get along there, beasts," commanded a cadet corporal in the lower hallway sternly.

"This is no sleeping match!" Out in the yard several candidates had already run.

Some of these young men at home, had been accustomed to being waited on by mothers and sisters.

Yet here, in the seemingly freezing and hostile air of the Military Academy, these same young men were fast learning that everything has to be done by one's self, and at steam-engine speed.
"Mr.Danvers, come with me, and I'll place you as right guide," called Cadet Brayton with the air and tone of a budding military martinet.
Candidate Danvers followed meekly.