Mr.Anstey has agreed to help look after your interests." "All right, and thank you, old fellow," nodded Dick, as he turned to pick up a book.
Greg gulped and quivered behind his chum's back.
"He doesn't seem excited, but I know that I am," muttered Cadet Holmes.

"The dear old fellow won't lose anything through nervousness, anyway." Dick went through his studies and recitations as usual that day.

If the stiff ordeal of the coming night carried any twinges for him, it wasn't noticeable in his demeanor.

Yet Dick knew that the news had gotten thoroughly about among the cadets.

He saw many of the new plebes gazing at him wonderingly.
When they returned from supper that night and reached their room, Greg was manifestly nervous--nervous enough for the pair of them, in fact.
"Dick, do you--do you expect to win ?" asked Greg at last.
"Against a man like Mr.Spurlock ?" smiled Cadet Prescott, and turned back to his study.
At a little after half past eight Mr.Anstey knocked on the door and came in.
"How's your form, Prescott, old ramrod ?" the Virginian demanded.
"Fine, I hope," replied Dick laconically.
Greg heaved an inward sigh.
"Poor old Dick," he told himself.