Since he had taken his medicine so frankly, he was not, however, "cut." One afternoon, when Dick had been dozing on his mattress for about ten minutes, during a period of freedom from drill, the tent flap rustled, and Yearling Furlong looked in.
"What is it ?" called Dick.
"Sorry if I've roused you, old ramrod," murmured the caller.
"That's all right, Milesy.

Come in and rest yourself.

You won't mind if I keep flat, will you?
"Not in training for sick report ?" asked Furlong, glancing down solicitously.

But he saw the glow of robust health glowing through the deep coat of tan on Prescott's face.
"My appetite doesn't resemble sick report," laughed Dick.

"But, while you don't really look ill, Milesy, it's very plain that you have something serious on your mind.