just like those of the enlisted men, the three captains entered
and walked up a flight of stairs to the floor above. Here they
passed through a narrow corridor with doors on both sides that
bore the cards of the officers who slept behind the respective
doors. Cartwright went to his own room, while Greg followed Dick
into the latter's quarters.

Plain enough was the room, seven and a half feet wide and ten
feet in length, with a single sliding window at the front. Walls
and ceiling, like the floor, were of pine boards. There were
shelves around two sides of the room, with clothing hooks underneath.
Under the window was a desk, with a cot to one side; the rest
of the furniture consisted of two folding camp chairs.

Entering, Dick hung up his campaign hat on one of the hooks, Greg
doing the same. On account of the heat of the day neither young
captain wore a tunic. Each unbuttoned the top button of his olive
drab Army shirt before he dropped into a chair.

"What do you think of the new K.O.?" Dick asked, as he picked a
newspaper up from the desk and started to fan himself.

"He means business," Greg returned. "I am glad he does," Dick
went on. "This is no time for slack soldiering. Greg, I'll feel
consoled for working eighteen hours a day if it results in making
the Ninety-ninth the best infantry regiment of the line."

"Can it be done?" Greg inquired.

"Yes."