(_Evening. In the tent._) Well, I won't put in too much detail for you, to whom perhaps this shooting has no interest. We finished at two hundred yards and moved back, carrying benches, racks, chairs, flags, everything, and began over again at three hundred yards, prone. The men were mostly very much on the stretch, and I admit that I was, for while I now was practically sure of my grade of marksman, I might, by shooting especially well, even become a sharpshooter. Lucy was in a similar state, marksman being within his grasp. Randall was swaggering; he had been shooting well. But Knudsen was very anxious, surprising in so cool a fellow. "To be Expert," he said, "I've got to make a fifty. Confound it, I'm afraid that shot I sent into the wrong target will ruin my chances. I need the little leeway it would give." Well, he missed it by two, and that little error undid him. Lucy got his grade of marksman, and his excitement was delightful. He sought out each member of the squad and called for congratulations. How disgusted his mother would be to see him with his hand on Pickle's shoulder, discussing the score, for really, don't you know, socially Pickle is less than nobody! I made my grade as sharpshooter, just made it, with a forty-nine. Poor Reardon! His scores had not been good, only a miracle could make him marksman, but he lost his chance. Loretta-- I'll tell you about Loretta, a sergeant whom the boys have nicknamed thus. Luckily he is not in our platoon; but we soon got to know the lofty smile with which he passed up and down the street, and his contempt for the enlisted man. Such, my dear mother, is the inflating power of a little authority. Well, he has been very busy with the shooting, making a good record himself, and helping, as all the sergeants did, with the scoring. Needing a scorer at one of the targets, he took poor Reardon and put him at work just when his last turn was coming on, and in spite of the fact that he had already served long hours at the job. Reardon protested, Loretta promised to let him have his turn, but when the shooting was all over there was poor Reardon still at the desk, and his last round was not fired. We noticed that on the way back to camp he was very silent and cast down, but we did not know why till we were cleaning our guns in the tent, all the racks being occupied outside. Then I questioned Reardon, and the facts came out. All of us were wrathy, but you should have seen Lucy! Tears of anger came into his eyes as he started up. "I'll go at once and tell the captain!" Reardon clutched him. "No," said the good fellow. "I hadn't a chance to qualify. It's perfectly true. Loretta told me so." "Loretta told you so!" echoed David. He was quite white and shaking at this instance of adding insult to injury. "By God!" He was for going at once and complaining, but Reardon wouldn't let him. "Then," said David, "wait till the hike. If you don't get even with him then, I will!"