"Most excellent Phippick," nodded Rosenlaube, "I opine, as Horace
said to Cicero, 'That's the stuff,' or words to that effect. What
saith the senator from Mitchellville?"

"Noble," grinned Phil, "unmistakably noble! Those Obscurity fellows
are a fiery lot. It reminds me that during the late war with Spain,
when I was a little, tiny boy, but brimful of ferocity, I refused
to eat my favorite dessert because it was called _Spanish_
cream. I felt sure at the time that my heroic conduct was of distinct
assistance to Dewey in the battle of Manila Bay."

"Well, then," said Phipps-Herrick, grabbing him by the shoulders
and shaking him good-humoredly, "you murderous little pacifist
with seven nicks on your gun, will you give up your German? Will
you forget it?"

Mitchell chuckled and shook his head,

"As far as requisite under military orders. But no further, not by
a--"

A pair of muddy boots was heard and seen descending one of
the ladders, followed by the manly and still rather neat form of
Lieutenant Barker Bunn, a Cornell man from West Philadelphia. The
three men sprang to their feet and saluted smartly, for the lieutenant
was very stiff about all the preliminary forms.

"Too loud talking here," he said gruffly. "I heard you before I
came down. Who is here? Oh, I see, Sergeant Phipps-Herrick, Privates