Glen was noisy from the beer which he had taken.
"Here is the money," said Dick, handing over some bills.
"Thanks, old chap. I'll see that you get it back all right."
"There's no hurry."
"All right; if I win, though, I'll pay you tomorrow. Do you think we'll lick Mooretown?"
"I hope so. But you'd better go to bed now."
"Me? Go to bed? Wha' for?"
"Well, it's getting late, and some one might come along. You'd better go."
"That's a' right. I'm goin'. You're a' right, Ham'ton. You're a' right. You're sport!"
And, rather unsteady on his legs, poor, foolish Glen went away, much to Dick's relief.
"I don't much care for friends, such as he is," thought Dick, as he got into bed.
In his generousness it never occurred to him that Glen had cultivated his acquaintance merely that he might borrow money from him.
Dick was awakened by the clear, sweet notes of the bugle sounding reveille. He and Paul jumped out of bed, and were soon in their uniforms. Then they got their room in order for police inspection, which, on some days, was made while they were at breakfast. This was one of those occasions.
"There, I guess they can't find any fault with that," observed Dick, as he and his roommate,
