He was a tall, handsome lad, with a frank, pleasant face, and a wealth of curly brown hair. He wore a close-fitting gray jacket and trousers. The uniform of a West Point “plebe,” as the new cadet is termed. He was standing in front of one of the tents in the summer camp of the corps, and speaking to half a dozen of his classmates. “This is addressed to me,” began Mark Mallory, obeying the request and sitting down. “But it’s really meant for the whole seven of us. And it’s interesting, as showing what the old cadets think of the tricks we bold plebes have been playing on them.”…
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