“Keep back, or it will be the worse for you, Randy Rover!” cried the other cadet, and now Randy recognized the voice of Gabe Werner quite distinctly.
The fun-loving Rover did not reply to Werner. Instead he hurried on faster than ever, coming so close presently that he was able to reach the ex-lieutenant with his gun. He swung the weapon by the barrel, and the stock caught Werner a severe blow on his right shoulder.
“Ouch!” yelled the big cadet, and his right arm dropped to his side and the raincoat slipped to the ground.
“You’re a fine rascal to steal my raincoat,” remonstrated Randy, raising his gun as if to give the ex-lieutenant another blow.
“Aw! can’t you take a joke? You Rovers didn’t think anything of smashing my flashlight.”
“You did that yourself, throwing it against your tent pole,” answered Randy.
“Huh! who told you that?”
“Never mind who told me—I know it’s the truth. Now, after this, Gabe Werner, you leave my things alone!”
“Bah! don’t talk to me, Randy Rover. If it wasn’t that you have nearly broken my right shoulder, I’d give you the licking you deserve.”
“And for two pins, Gabe Werner, I’d report you for being absent from camp without leave,” retorted Randy. “Now you get back to your tent just as fast as you can.”