"Now, look here, Greg.
Admit that you were a prize simpleton, just as I was.

Let's start anew--with a bang-up motto.

This is it: 'A Gridley boy may die, but resign--never!'" Dick struck such a dramatic attitude that both poor young plebes began to laugh heartily.
"Oh, and now for the news that brought me back here hotfoot," ran on Prescott glibly.

"Greg, you never could guess who's here at West Point." "The President, or the Chief of the General Staff ?" asked Holmes slowly.
"Oh, pshaw, no! They don't either one amount to as much as the fellow I'm talking about thinks he amounts to." "Whom did our Senators appoint to the Academy ?" asked Prescott after a pause.
"Me," admitted Greg, again turning red.
"Well, whom did the other Senator appoint!" "A fellow named Spooner, who came here and 'fessed out' cold (failed badly) on the academic exam," Greg responded.
"Who was Spooner's alternate!" persisted Dick.
"I don't believe I remember," Greg replied slowly.
"No; and that was because neither you nor I ever knew.

Spooner's alternate was--Bert Dodge!" "What?
Bert Dodge, of Gridley ?" demanded Cadet Holmes astonished.
"That very chap," Prescott admitted.