“Well, you know I have to set the rest of the battalion an example, being major,” was the reply. “If the major isn’t up to the scratch how can he expect his men to be?”
“Yes, I know that’s the way to look at it, but I really don’t see how you keep your sword looking so fine, and your scabbard.”
“I polish it pretty often—then it doesn’t come hard, Pep. The whole secret is in not letting things slip too long. When I find a button getting loose I don’t wait for it to fall off—I tighten it up right away.”
While Jack and his chums were talking matters over on the campus Coulter, Ritter, and Paxton had walked off toward the boat-house. They took but little interest in the inspection, until an idea regarding it entered Ritter’s head.
“I did what I could to lame Snow,” said Paxton to Coulter. “I kicked his wrist as hard as I could.”
“I was not in condition—my stomach has been weak for two days,” was Coulter’s explanation. “Another time I’ll beat him all to pieces.”
“Say, Reff, you had a run-in with Jack Ruddy, didn’t you?” asked Paxton, turning to Ritter.
“Yes.” Ritter was clicking his teeth together—something he was in the habit of doing when out of sorts. “Say, I wonder——” He stopped short.
“What do you wonder?” asked Coulter.
“I was thinking of that exhibition drill.”