concerning missing Bill Handlee, and the tactical officer made some inquiries of the war office, but all to no effect. All trace of the veteran's son seemed to have vanished.
"But what do you suppose made Toots—I mean Sam Sander—think he recognized the photo?" asked Dick.
"Well, you know poor Sam isn't quite right in his head," replied the major kindly. "He received an injury some years ago, I understand. You can see the scar on his forehead now. That made him rather simple minded, though he is a good worker, and very useful."
"Then I'm afraid I can't send Captain Handlee any good news."
"I'm afraid not, Hamilton."
Dick had to write the sorrowful tidings to the old soldier, much to his regret. The young millionaire also sent a missive to his father, telling something of the life at the academy, but saying nothing of the manner in which he had been treated. Dick bravely resolved to fight his own battles.
He found the studies anything but easy, but as he applied himself to his books, he stood well in his class.
In the meantime matters were beginning to move with military regularity, and the cadets in their natty uniforms, presented at drill, or inspection, inspiring pictures.
At first Dick, and all the new cadets, were
