Another door opened, to admit a dandified and very smart-looking young officer, apparently about twenty-five years of age.
"You're all ready, young gentlemen?" he asked smilingly.
"We're waiting for the doctor," replied Greg, who was close to the door by which the officer had entered.
"I am one of the surgeons," replied the young officer pleasantly.
"Gee whiz!" remarked one raw-boned youth, in what was meant to be a confidential whisper, but which rose to a pitch that carried it around the room. "Say, he doesn't look much like our old saw-bones doc down home way!"
The surgeon was followed by a smart-looking soldier of the hospital corps, who started to close the shades of the room.
"You have all been to the treasurer's office and deposited your funds?" asked the young surgeon, turning again. This time his question appeared to be addressed to Dick more particularly than to anyone else.
"Why, no, sir," Prescott replied. "I have all my money in my pocket yet."
"Orderly!" spoke the surgeon to his own man of the hospital corps, who wheeled, brought his heels together and stood at attention. "Bring in that orderly who conducted the young gentlemen here."
"Yes, sir," replied the hospital orderly, wheeling about and vanishing from the room. He was back again in a moment with the soldier who had brought in this batch of candidates without interviewing the treasurer.