"Why not?"
"Well, one would expect to see an army officer in uniform, you know."
"An officer rarely travels in uniform, unless on duty with troops," explained Dick.
"How did you like West Point?"
"Fine!" said Dick, grimly. "It was like four years in prison, only more so. When I look back I shudder at the incessant grind I had to endure there. Yet I'm going to be happy, now I'm through, for I couldn't be happy anywhere except in the United States Army."
"What crazy notions some folks have of happiness," murmured Tom, mockingly. "However, old fellow, we're not going to fight, are we? Now, hustle over to the house. Harry is sleeping at the present moment, but I won't let him have a wink more of sleep to-night. It's getting toward daylight, anyway, and too much sleep isn't good for a fellow. But don't talk above a whisper, Dick, when we get near the house. I don't want Harry, by any chance, to catch a sound of your voice until he comes out on the porch and runs into you."
Chatting away in low tones the two old-time high school chums gained the porch.
"Now, just stay here," whispered Tom, then strode into the house. He entered his partner's room, gripping the slumber-seized Hazelton with a strong clasp.
"Oh, quit your fooling!" protested a sleepy voice from the pillow.
"Time to get up, you slant-eyed rations stealer!" muttered Tom gruffly.
"Come on. You're needed, and there's no time to be lost. Up with you!"