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"I reckon you've got as a bad looking window here," murmured Anstey sympathetically, as he swabbed at the damaged surface around the eye. "Make it short, Holmesy, or you're going to meet with more damage, I reckon." "This is the last serious smash that Greg is going to take," put in Dick coolly.
But Dick raced to dressing quarters full of but one thing. "Quick, Holmesy! We don't know how soon the Navy team may have to run down the road to a train." "Aren't they going to have supper at the mess?" demanded Greg, as he stripped. "I don't know; I'm afraid not." Dick and Greg were the first of the Army nine to be dressed in their fatigue uniforms.
Prescott, yours is left end; Holmesy, you'll expend your energies as left tackle. Haynes, you'll be in reserve, as a sub." The message to Cadet Haynes was delivered without the suspicion of a snub in it. Almost any other man in the battalion would have accepted this wise decision without a murmur, delighted that the Army had found a better man. Not so with Cadet Haynes. He turned cold all over.
"Oh, I'll be in at one of the hops, later on in the summer," responded Prescott. "One?" gasped Furlong. "Oh, you wild, giddy thing! You're going to do better, aren't you, Holmesy?" continued Furlong, as Dick's old chum came out, fitting on a pair of white gloves. "I'm going over and put my head in danger of being punched, I suppose," grinned Greg.
Darrin and Dalzell can't have done it all, for the Navy always travels light on baggage when headed this way. Yes, you and Holmesy have dragged the crowd in." "Quit your joshing," muttered Greg, who was bending over his shoe laces. "Yes; cut it. We can stand it better after the game," laughed Dick. "Get your men out in five minutes more, Durville," called Lieutenant Lawrence, looking in.
"Prescott," declared Durville, during the after-dinner recreation period, "we want you to come around to show what you can do at baseball. We've some good, armor-proof material for the squad, but we need a lot more. And we want Holmesy, too. Bring him around with you, won't you?" "If he'll come," nodded Dick. "He must come. But you'll hold yourself ready, anyway, won't you?"
"Now, I'm going to hunt up Holmesy, and see if I can show him some of the knack." Greg proved a grateful though not very clever pupil. He was all enthusiasm, but the art of landing a trout appeared to him to be one of the most difficult feats in the world. "I don't believe I'll ever land enough to fill a frying pan," he said dejectedly. "Dick, the fellows are depending upon you.
"If you want it, come on and try," begged Dick. "Our Congressman gives the nomination to the boy in the district who can stand up best under an exam. Go in and try for it, Greg! Work like a horse when high school opens. You might get it." "And take it away from you?" blurted Holmes. "If you can get it from me, you ought to do it, Holmesy. The best men are needed in every walk of life.
"On your way, Holmesy," nodded Dick, glancing at the time. "It's a long walk, even for a cadet, to Captain Steele's quarters." Greg went away, humming under his breath. "There's a chap whom care rarely hits," mused Dick, looking half enviously after his chum. "I wonder really if he ever will marry?" Presently Dick picked up his camp chair and placed it just outside at the door of his tent.
Now, Army baseball was the topic. The nine and other members of the baseball squad were practising in earnest. Durville had been chosen to captain the nine. Though there was some mighty good material in the nine, neither the coaches nor Durville were wholly satisfied. "Holmesy," broached Durville plaintively one day, "you play a grand game of football."
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