But, fellows, I hope you all feel, as solemnly as I do myself, just what this next year must mean to us in work, in study---in a word, in achievement.

It won't do any of us any harm, once in a while to feel solemn, for five seconds at a time, over what we are going to do this year to assure our futures." For once Tom Reade didn't have a jest ready.

For once Dalzell forgot to grin.
The march was taken up again.

The next halt was made in Gridley, thus ending their long training hike, the boys going to their respective homes.
"Just give three silent cheers, and we won't startle anyone," Tom proposed.
"We went out on the trip to harden ourselves," murmured Dave, "and I must admit that we have all done it." That evening Dick and Harry Hazelton drove the horse and wagon over to Tottenville, where the camp wagon was returned to its owner, Mr.Newbegin Titmouse.
"You young men have worn this wagon quite: a bit," whined Mr.
Titmouse, after he had painstakingly inspected the wagon by the light of a lantern.
"I think we've brought it back in fine condition, sir," replied Dick, and he spoke the truth.

"The wagon looks better, Mr.Titmouse, than you had expected to see it." "You owe me about five dollars for extra wear and tear," insisted the money-loving Mr.Titmouse.
But he didn't get the money.