clothes." "Carrying a rifle and marching the lock-step---the route-step, I mean---has dulled your brain," growled Tom Reade.

"Is Greg in Gridley ?" "What scoundrel is taking my name in vein ?" demanded Holmes, coming upon the trio.
Then there were hearty greetings, all over again.

But in the end Reade looked Greg over from head to foot.
"Do they make you sleep on a stretcher at West Point ?" Tom wanted to know.

"Or what do they do, to pull a pair of galoots out to the length that you two have attained." "It's the physical training and the military drills," explained Prescott, laughing.

"But my! You fellows look like the Indian's head on a copper cent!" Tom and Harry were, indeed, highly bronzed by the hot southwestern sun.