“Did you see that, old man?” he cried.
“Yes, b’gee, I did,” responded Dewey, “and I know what it means, too.”
The four were cadets!
Our two friends fairly gasped with delight as they realized that. The strangers had disappeared in the tent by that time and quick as a wink Mark sprang forward.
“Let’s see who they are,” he cried.
The two hurried up to the tent door and peered cautiously around the edge of the canvas. They could plainly see the backs of the others as they strolled away. An instant later Mark started back with a cry of delight. One of the four had turned around and shown his face for one instant. It was Bull Harris! And the rest were his “gang!”
Mark and Dewey stole away to a safe corner and sat down to consult. Of course there was but one thought in the minds of both of them. It was a chance for a joke, a superb one. Bull was in disguise, and would run for his life at the least suspicion of discovery. It was a golden opportunity, and such a one must not be allowed to pass, for anything in the world.
Our readers of course understand what were Mark Mallory’s feelings toward Bull Harris, the yearling. Bull was Mark’s deadliest enemy in West Point; Bull hated him with a concentrated hatred that had grown with each unsuccessful attempt to outwit Mark, to disgrace him, to get him expelled. As for Mark, he did not hate Bull, but he loved to worry that ill-natured and malignant youth with all kinds of clever schemes.
That was the reason why, the very instant Mark recognized the yearling, the thought flashed over him—what a chance for some fun.
“We mustn’t let him see us,” Mark whispered to Dewey. “He’d recognize us in spite of our disguise. What shall we do?”