"I know I'd want to be warned, if it were likely to happen to me to-night," insisted Dick soberly.
"Oh—well, I don't know but that you're right," assented Anstey slowly. "Yes; I'm certain you are."
"Hullo, you raw-looking rookies," hailed Dodge, halting and looking in through the doorway.
"Come in here a minute, Dodge," urged Anstey.
For an instant Dodge looked suspicious. Then he muttered:
"As you're not yearlings, I accept the invitation."
Very spick and span Dodge looked as he entered the tent. As a member of the guard he wore a pair of immaculate white duck trousers, which held the "spooniest" crease imaginable. His gray coat and white gloves made him look more the dandy than usual.
"We've something to tell you, Dodge," Anstey continued almost in a whisper, as the four plebes stood in a close bunch. "At least, old ramrod says we ought to tell you."
Then, lowering his voice still more, Anstey gave an outline of what the new yearlings were supposed to try to do to the lonely plebe on post number three at the hour when ghosts walk.
"Humph!" rejoined Dodge quickly. "Let the yearlings try that sort of trick, if they dare. Have those fellows no idea of the sacred position of trust held by a United States sentinel? For I, on sentry duty, represent the sovereignty of the United States just as much as does any soldier patrolling a lonely post in the face of the enemy in war time!"