Don Gordon's Shooting-Box. Castlemon Harry

can’t see what there is wrong about them,” replied Don, who knew in a moment what his brother meant. “I am sure they acted very honorably in coming here to make things right with us.”

      “I have nothing to say against that,” Bert hastened to answer. “But I don’t like to hear them talk so glibly about disobeying the rules.”

      “I don’t know that that is any business of yours or mine either,” said Don, rather impatiently. “If they are willing to take the risk, and abide the consequences if they are detected, that is their own affair. You needn’t do it.”

      “I!” exclaimed Bert, in great amazement. “You maybe sure that I have no intention of doing anything of the kind, and I hope you haven’t, either.”

      “You need not waste any valuable time in worrying about me. I am able to look out for myself. But I’ll tell you what’s a fact, Bert: I don’t think as much of this military business as I did a few weeks ago. If I were only back home with my pony, dogs and guns, I tell you I would stay there. I feel more like going out in the woods and knocking over a wild turkey than I do like sitting here in this gloomy room preparing for to-morrow’s recitations.”

      Don opened one of the books that lay upon the table, but the page on which he fastened his eyes might have been blank for all he saw there. His mind was not upon the work that demanded his attention. He was thinking over his recent interview with Fisher and Duncan.

      “I wonder if they pass their evenings at Cony Ryan’s when they run the guards?” said Don to himself. “I wonder, too, if Cony’s hotel, or whatever he calls it, was in existence when my father attended this school, and if he went there to eat pancakes. If he did, I don’t see how he can find any fault with me if I go there. Tom and Clarence don’t seem to be such a bad lot, and it is nothing more than fair that I should meet their advances half way.”

      When the hour for recreation came, Don did something he had never done before in his life. Watching his opportunity he slipped away from Bert and set out to hunt up Fisher and Duncan. He did not have much trouble in finding them, for they also were looking for him. After returning his salute they slipped their arms through his and led him toward the gymnasium.

      “You are a stranger here,” said Clarence, “and as we know you must be lonely we will introduce you to the boys in our set, if you would like to know them.”

      “You will find them all tip-top fellows,” added Tom. “You see, there is a little crowd of us who run together, and somehow we manage to have good times. There are some boys here, however, with whom we never have anything to do. We will point them out to you as fast as we can, so that you can steer clear of them.”

      “They are high-toned lads,” said Clarence, “and won’t associate with any but the members of their own class. Some of them are preparing for West Point. They pride themselves on being soldiers all over; and if they can’t prove their soldierly qualities in any other way, they will report somebody.”

      “Where’s your brother?” asked Tom, suddenly.

      Don replied that he didn’t know where he was.

      “I rather fancied that he didn’t exactly like what we said about running the guard a while ago,” continued Tom. “Did he?”

      “No, he didn’t. He wouldn’t think of doing such a thing.”

      “Well, then, he can make up his mind to be gated on an average of once a month as long as he stays here; for no matter how hard he tries, he can’t help breaking some of the rules. If he has a mind to submit to confinement – why, that’s his business and not mine.”

      “I haven’t done it since I have been here,” said Fisher, emphatically; “and, what’s more, I won’t.”

      “Where do you go when you run the guard?”