That's what we're learning at West Point." "Don't let's fight," pleaded Tom pathetically.

"Fellows, we may never meet again.

Before another year rolls around Hazelton and I may have been scalped and burned by the Apaches, and you fellows may have died at West Point, from nervous prostration brought on by overeating and lack of exercise.

So let's be good friends during the little time that we may have together." "When you get time," put in Dick dryly, "you might as well tell us when you reached Gridley." "After ten o'clock last night," supplied Harry.

"Of course, we had to go home first.