It is a hard ordeal, that fellowship of "nothingness" during the first portion of the West Point course.
Homesickness is the worst ailment of the new cadet. Day by day he grows more homesick until it seems to him that he simply cannot endure the Military Academy for another twenty-four hours.
One afternoon, while taking a walk as a relief from too hard application to his mathematics, Cadet Dick Prescott stumbled upon some news that made him open his eyes very wide.
"Well, of all things!" he growled to himself.
Then he walked faster.
"Greg must hear of this," muttered the new plebe.
Going down the street at military stride, Cadet Prescott turned in at the north sally port, stepped briskly along one of the walks, bounded up the steps and in at the outer door of the subdivision in which he dwelt.
Up the stairs with considerable speed went Cadet Prescott, still revolving in his mind the news upon which he had stumbled.
"What on earth will Greg think?" throbbed the new plebe.
In a very short time Prescott's hurrying feet carried him to the door of his room on the top floor. The door yielded as Dick put his hand to the knob.