Then it had been "Mr.Briggs"; now it was "Briggsy"; that much had the round little fellow gained by stepping up from the fourth class to the third.
"Have you found any b.j.beasts among the new plebes, Briggsy!" Dick wanted to know.
"Plenty of 'em," responded Briggs with enthusiasm.
"Any that were b.j.-er than Mr.Briggs ?" inquired Greg.
A shade annoyance crossed the new yearling's face.
"I never was b.j., was I ?" he murmured.
"Think!" returned Dick dryly.

"However, you're Briggs, now, with all my heart---no longer 'mister.'" "We've had a busy, busy summer," murmured Briggs, "licking the new beasts into shape." Greg laughed heartily at memory of some of the hazing stunts through which he had once helped to rush Briggs.
Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs, of the second class, hurried over to greet Prescott and Holmes.
"Where's Anstey ?" Dick inquired.
"Not back yet, I'm sure," replied Briggs.
"Oh, well, he'll be back before the day's over," Dick went on confidently.

"That youth from Virginia is much too good a soldier to fail to report on time." Soon after the instruction parties of the first, third and fourth classes came marching back into camp.

It seemed, indeed, like old times, to see the fellows all rushing off to their tents to clean up and change uniforms before the dinner call sounded.
Then the call for dinner formation came.

Dick and Greg fell in, in their old company, and marched away at the old, swinging soldier tread.
Most of the afternoon the returned furlough men spent in their new rooms.