"I don't believe he will do much," said Larry Colby. "He is only
talking, that's all. He knows well enough that Captain Putnam can have
him locked up, if he wants to."

By eight o'clock that evening the field in which they were to encamp
for the night was reached. Tents were speedily put up, and half a dozen
camp-fires started, making the boys feel quite at home. The cadets
gathered around the fires and sang song after song, and not a few
practical jokes were played.

"Hans, they tell me you feel cold and want your blood shook up," said
Tom to Hans Mueller, the German cadet.

"Coldt, is it?" queried Hans. "Vot you dinks, I vos coldt mid der
borometer apout two hundred by der shade, ain't it? I vos so hot like I
lif in Africa alretty!"

"Oh, Hans must be cold!" cried Sam. "Let us shake him up, boys!"

"All right!" came from half a dozen. "Get a blanket, somebody!"

"No, you ton't, not by my life alretty!" sang out Hans, who had been
tossed up before. "I stay py der groundt mine feets on!" And he started
to run away.

Several went after him, and he was caught in the middle of an adjoining
cornfield, where a rough-and-tumble scuffle ensued, with poor Hans at
the bottom of the heap.

"Hi, git off, kvick!" he gasped. "Dis ton't been no footsball game