But for the new plebes—what? They were plebes just as much as ever, and would be until the following June.
The day after the graduating class had departed, and the late yearlings had followed in their trail, as the furloughed new second class, what was left of the battalion marched forth out of barracks into camp.
Here under the khaki-colored tents what was left of the battalion settled down to the life of the soldier in the field.
An untrained eye might not have noticed much in the arrangement of the camp. However, the tents of the main camp were arranged along six company streets. There was also the larger tent of the tactical officer in charge, the guard-tent, and some other tents used in the administration of camp-life.
Now, every text-book was laid aside for the summer. Instruction during camp period was to be in the practical duties that belong to the soldier's life.
The new first class mourned the loss of a few members who had been "found"—that is, who had failed in their studies just before Commencement. More than a score had been dropped from the new yearling class. Only two of the new plebes had been dropped, they having been found wholly and absolutely unfit to keep the brain-fagging pace of academic work at West Point.
"I never minded study back home," muttered Greg, as he and Dick toiled setting their few belongings to rights under canvas. "But, the way the study-gait is kept up here at West Point, I certainly say 'hurrah' with all my heart at the thought that books are closed for all summer."
"We'll be back at the grind in September again," laughed Dick. "And I'm assured that we haven't struck the real study-gait yet; that these new three months from March on are only to break us in a bit, so that we won't mind the real thing so much when we meet it in September."
"Then you give me cause for gloomy thought," shuddered Greg.
"Make way for a future general," grinned Anstey, as, with both arms full of belongings he forced his way into the tent. The cadets were housed three to a tent, and Anstey, to the great delight of Dick and Greg, had been assigned to bunk with them. Anstey, too, was delighted, for the young Virginian was a gentleman of the actual type, who had been growing steadily more weary of the sham "gentleman" that Bert Dodge had so far illustrated.