“Hear! Hear!” came a chorus of voices.
“Fly at him, Walt!” urged one of young Osborne’s patrol.
“Go to it, beak and claws,” added another.
“Billy the Wolf’ll catch you if you don’t watch out!” chanted a third, in a sing-song voice, thumping his pillow as if to beat time to the words.
Neither Billy nor Hugh made any response to this friendly taunt. Hugh turned aside and, going to the rear of the room where a tier of lockers stood, numbered to correspond with the bunks, he drew out a pair of bathing trunks.
“Going for a swim before breakfast?” asked Billy, turning to a young fellow who appeared in the doorway of the cabin and paused on the threshold outside.
“Are you?” came the evasive answer.
“You bet! The Lieutenant gave us permission yesterday, and we’re off to the lake, bright and early.”
“I see,” remarked the outsider, glancing around the cabin, which was filled with boys in various stages of undress.
Something in the tone of his voice, a note of wistful bitterness, struck the ears of Hugh Hardin, who was standing near enough to overhear this brief colloquy. He looked up from the process of tying the strings of his shorts tight, and was on the point of making some remark, when, recognizing the visitor, he kept silence.