Plain enough was the room, seven and a half feet wide and ten feet in length, with a single sliding window at the front. Walls and ceiling, like the floor, were of pine boards. There were shelves around two sides of the room, with clothing hooks underneath. Under the window was a desk, with a cot to one side; the rest of the furniture consisted of two folding camp chairs.
Entering, Dick hung up his campaign hat on one of the hooks, Greg doing the same. On account of the heat of the day neither young captain wore a tunic. Each unbuttoned the top button of his olive drab Army shirt before he dropped into a chair.
"What do you think of the new K.O.?" Dick asked, as he picked a newspaper up from the desk and started to fan himself.
"He means business," Greg returned. "I am glad he does," Dick went on. "This is no time for slack soldiering. Greg, I'll feel consoled for working eighteen hours a day if it results in making the Ninety-ninth the best infantry regiment of the line."
"Can it be done?" Greg inquired.
"Yes."
"But I've a hunch that every other regiment is striving for the same honor," Captain Holmes continued. "Ours isn't the only K.O. who covets the honor of commanding the best regiment of 'em all."
"It can be done," Dick insisted, "and I say it must be done."
"Yet other regiments would be so close to us in excellence that it would be hard to name the one that is really best."
"In that case we wouldn't have won the honor," Dick smilingly insisted.