When tattoo was sounded by the bugler that night both chums were glad enough to turn down their beds and get into them. Neither Hal nor Noll remained awake more than two minutes.
The windows were open, and a cool, delicious breeze, circulated through the squad room. Hal slept the sleep of the truly tired, hearing nothing of the martial snores of some of the men on adjoining cots. It was late in the night when Private Overton was awakened by the sound of a rifle shot.
"I must have been dreaming through the scenes of last night again," Hal muttered drowsily.
None of the other men in the room appeared to have heard the sound at all.
But now it came again. A shot was followed by a second, then by a third.
"Corporal of the guard—post number three!" yelled a lusty voice, though the distance was such that Hal Overton heard the sound only faintly.
Crack—crack!
Then a bugle pealed on the air, though still Hal's comrades in the squad room slumbered on.
Too curious to turn over and go to sleep again, Hal stole softly from his cot and reached an open window on the side that looked out over the parade.
There was no moon, but in the light of the stars Hal could see several uniformed men running swiftly across the parade ground to officers' row.