"Hello, there, Stubbs!" called Jordan from the doorway of his
tent.

"Oh, that you, Jordan?" called Stubbs.

"Yes; come in, won't you?"

Cadet Stubbs, of the first class, looked slightly surprised, for
he had never been an intimate of this particular cadet.

"What's the matter?" asked Stubbs, pushing aside the tent flap
and stepping into the tent.

Then, remembering something he had heard, Stubbs continued quickly:

"You're in a little trouble of some kind, aren't you, old man?"

"Oh, I'm in con." growled Mr. Jordan.

"Con." is the brief designation for "confinement."

"Some report this morning, eh?"

"Yes; that dog Prescott sprung a roorback on me. Sit down, won't
you?"

"No, thank you," replied Cadet Stubbs more coolly. "Jordan, `dog'
is a pretty extreme word to apply to a brother cadet."

"Oh, are you one of that fellow's admirers?" demanded the man