Fred attended to these things cheerfully, never dreaming that they were not a part of his regular duties. When he had finished, Merriwell said:
"That is very satisfactory, Mr. Davis. Immediately after tattoo you may come round and be shown how to make up beds. In the meantime, if any one else should require you to perform service of a similar nature in any tent other than your own, you may inform them that you have already received instructions from me, and that the state of your health will prevent you from doing too much labor of the kind. Do you understand?"
"I think so, sir."
"Very good. You may go."
Frank's duties kept him very busy during the most of the day. He had little time to look after Davis, and he scarcely gave his fag a thought till after supper, when the dusk of evening was settling over the cove, and the "plebe hotels" had been surrounded at various points by mischievous yearlings. Then he took a fancy to stroll around and see how Baby was getting along.
On his way down the street he passed the tent occupied by Bascomb. He might have walked on, but the low, fierce voice of the big cadet caught his ear, and he distinctly heard these words:
"What's that? You refuse to bring water for me? Have done this kind of work already for Merriwell? So Corporal Merriwell has been compelling a plebe to perform menial services? Well, that might cost him those pretty stripes on his sleeves! What do I care for him! I want you to bring that water, and you will bring it."
"But he told me not to do work of this kind for anybody else but myself," came the faltering voice of Fred Davis.
"Oh, he did? Well, that's interesting! I suppose by that he means to lay claim to you. I wonder what Lieutenant Gordan would say if he knew what one of his particular pets has been up to! We'll see who is best man in this affair. Bring that water!"
"I—I don't want to, sir."