unconsciously, passed over the sealed envelope which he had
received from the adjutant in a room on the same floor at
headquarters.

Prescott was quickly breathing at his ease. He discovered that the
entire ordeal consisted of giving his family history, with dates.

Then he stepped back. Another name was called.

"Don't let that rattle you a bit, Greg," whispered Dick, when he had
dropped back into his seat beside his chum. "Mr. Ward doesn't do
anything but take your pedigree."

"Mr. Holmes!"

Greg got up with nearly all of his self-possession about him. He
was just returning to sit by his chum when the nattiest, sprucest-
looking soldier imaginable, wearing the olive-drab fatigue uniform
of the Army and overcoat to match, stepped into the room.

"The surgeons have directed me to bring down all the candidates
who are through here," the orderly announced. "Follow me to the
sidewalk, where you will fall in loosely, by twos, and follow me to
the cadet hospital."

Among those of the candidates who had finished giving their
pedigrees there was a rush that would put a spectator in mind
almost of a football scrimmage. It represented merely the feverish
anxiety of these young men to get through with the next stage in
their awe-filled day.