"Same here," Noll nodded.
"I've been working sixteen hours a day ever since I hit camp," chimed in another lieutenant. "What's the new system going to be? Eighteen hours a day?"
"Twenty, perhaps," said Greg's first lieutenant cheerfully.
The meal had been under way for fifteen minutes when Captain Cartwright entered leisurely.
"I suppose you fellows have eaten all the best stuff," he called, as he looked about and found a vacant seat, though he paused as if in no great haste to occupy it.
"Same old Cartwright," observed Greg, in an undertone to Dick.
"He's late, even at mess formation."
But Cartwright heard, and wheeled about, looking half-angrily at young Captain Holmes.
"Say, Holmes, you're as free as ever with your tongue."
"Yes," Greg answered unconcernedly. "Using it to taste my food, and I've been finding the taste uncommonly pleasant."
"You use your tongue in more ways than that," snapped Captain Cartwright. "I happened to hear what you said about me in Prescott's room a few minutes ago."