"Mr. Briggs, take Mr. Furlong's piece, and go through the silent
manual of arms," ordered the president of the yearling class.

Mr. Briggs picked up the rifle that Furlong pointed out to him.
Then, trying to look very grave in order to hide the extreme
sheepishness that he really felt, Mr. Briggs brought the rifle up
to port arms.

"Proceed through the manual, mister," Dick counseled. "And keep
going until we decide that you have done it long enough to put
you past the danger of pneumonia."

Standing stiffly, the plebe started through the manual of arms.
As soon as he had gone once through, with West Point precision
in every movement, the plebe started in all over again.

"Now, do this to the stationary marching, mister," added Dick
gravely, as though prescribing something for the very immediate
benefit of the luckless fourth classman.

With that, Mr. Briggs began to "march," though not stirring from
the spot on which he was stationed. Left, right! left, right!
left, right! his feet moved, in the cadence of marching. At
the same time the victim was obliged to raise his feet.

"Bring the feet up higher and more smartly, mister," directed
Dick.

Passing the rifle through every movement of the manual of arms,