"I think I shall go as a Colonial officer. I always did like a powdered wig."
"Talcum powder, instead of gun powder," retorted Dick. "That's the calibre of such tin soldiers as you."
"Halt!" called Paul, as Dick prepared to run away. "As punishment I'll not introduce you to a certain pretty girl I know, who is coming to the dance."
"Then I'll surrender and beg your pardon!" cried Dick.
"What part will you play?" asked Paul. "You'd look swell dressed as an Indian."
"I think I'll take the part of a cannon swab, and then I'll not have to bother about a suit. But more of that later. I'm going to see what I have to do."
Dick found out from the chairman of his committee that there was plenty of work to prepare for the fête, and he did his share. One day he had to go to a nearby town to purchase some of the decorations.
It was two days before the fancy dress ball was to take place, and, having made his purchases, Dick prepared to return to the Academy. As he was about to board a trolley car, which ran near Kentfield, he heard a voice calling:
"How are you, Dick Hamilton?"
He turned, to see a tall, well-built lad, of about his own age, who was smiling at him in a friendly fashion. At first he did not recognize the youth.