There is just time for you to reach your quarters before taps sound." Spurlock glanced hastily at the clock.
"You're right, mister," he admitted.

"Then you may wait until you hear from me, mister." With that Spurlock walked quickly from the room.
Dick examined his cot and found that Spurlock had been engaged in the humorous trick of placing some two score exploded caps from target-rifle ammunition under his under sheet.
"He wanted me to jump into bed and go down plump on all those caps, and then squirm there until after taps inspection," grinned Prescott as he swiftly removed the stuff.

"It would have been a tough one, too--but now I guess I have a tougher proposition on my hands." Prescott sighed a trifle as he hastily undressed, placing his clothing according to the regulations on the subject.
Just as he had finished taps sounded on the drum outside.

Dick turned off his gas, bounded into bed and lay there as the door opened and the bull's-eye lantern of the subdivision inspector flashed into the room.
"All right here, sir, or accounted for," Dick remarked to the inspector, who hastily closed the door and hurried along on his rounds.
True to the medical officer's promise Greg was discharged from hospital the following morning, and permitted to report back to full duty.
"What's this I hear, Dick, old ramrod ?" Greg demanded as soon as the chums were back in quarters from breakfast.

"The news is flying around fast that Mr.Spurlock is going to call you out." "I expect that he is," Dick admitted ruefully, and then told his chum all the details of the occurrence of the night before.
"Why, that doesn't strike me as fair excuse for a fight," Greg muttered.