"We didn't set the cannon crackers off; we didn't see anyone around
the monument, and we don't know anything about it."

"All true," nodded Dick. "But we'll have to say it in all the
different styles of good English that we can think of."

Dick and Greg reached the encampment, and passed inside the limits,
just before they heard the guard marching back.

Then all was ominously quiet over at the tent of the O.C., Captain
Bates.

Tattoo had gone some time ago. Now the alarm clock told the bunkies
that they had just three minutes in which to get undressed and be
in bed before taps sounded on the drum.

"It's a shame, too," muttered Dick in an undertone. "We won't
be any more than on the blanket before the summons from the O.C.
will arrive."

"Here it comes, now," whispered Greg, nudging his bunkie.

But it was Anstey, their tentmate, hastening to be undressed in
time against taps.

"What was the row?" asked the Virginian.

"Cannon crackers over at Battle Monument," replied Dick. "We were
over there at the time."