"I forgot all about it." "And haven't we a cent of insurance on it?" asked Paul Drew. "Not a penny. It's all my fault. I meant to get new policies, but I put it off and now----" "Now it's too late," said Rutledge. "You're a fine treasurer, you are." Amazement and chagrin made Dutton incapable of replying. The cadets looked on sorrowfully, as they saw their society house being destroyed, knowing that it would be no easy matter to get the money for a new one. Suddenly there was an explosion from within, and a shower of stones from one of the walls flew into the air. "Look out!" cried Dick. He and the others leaped back in time, but Toots, who was in the front rank of spectators, having helped to carry out many valued relics, did not seem to hear. A moment later a fragment of stone struck him on the head, and he fell down. "Toots is hurt!" cried Dick, running up to the odd janitor, whom all the cadets liked because of his pleasant ways. "Carry him to the hospital, boys," said the major. "I'll have the surgeon attend to him. Maybe he isn't hurt much." But from the blood on the head of poor Toots, it would seem that the wound was not a small one. Sorrowfully Dick and his chums carried the unconscious man. There was little use remaining at the fire now, for it was almost out, having consumed everything save the walls. "He isn't badly hurt," announced the surgeon cheerfully, when he had examined Toots. "Only a cut on the head. He'll be all right in a few days." Suddenly the injured man, who had been placed on a couch in the hospital, sat up. He felt of the bandage on his head. Then he looked around wildly. "Did we beat the red imps off?" he asked. "Why is it I don't hear the firing? Have they retreated? Am I badly hurt? Let me get at 'em again! I'm a good shot! I can pick 'em off!" He started from his couch, but the surgeon gently pressed him back. "What's the matter, Toots?" he asked. "Where do you think you are?" "Toots? Who's Toots? I'm Corporal Bill Handlee, and I must get back to my post. I'm a sharpshooter, and the Indians are attacking us." The surgeon looked at the injured man in amazement. He thought Toots was delirious. But to Dick the thrilling words meant much. He pressed forward. In his hand he held the battered marksman's medal which Major Webster had returned to him. "Is this yours, Corporal Handlee?" he asked. "Yes; where did you get it?" asked Toots. "But why don't some of you speak? Have we beaten off the red imps?" "Yes," said Dick gently, understanding the whole story now. "They were beaten back some years ago, Toots. Oh, I've found you at last! Won't your father be glad!" "My father?" and Toots, or, as we must call him now, Corporal Handlee, looked dazed. "My father knows where I am." "He doesn't, but he soon will," said Dick joyfully, and by degrees, he told the story of how he had agreed to help Captain Handlee locate his missing son, and how, by a strange trick of fate, he had been found.