"Oh, anywhere. Let's walk out toward the hills. It's more like the country there, and with summer almost here I always want to get out in the woods and fields." "The same with me. It won't be long until vacation now. What are you going to do, Dick?" "I don't know," replied the young millionaire, musingly, as he donned a fatigue uniform. "Dad did think of going to Europe, and if he does I shall probably go with him. But I'd rather put in a good time on this side, with some of the fellows. What's your programme, Paul?" "It's up to the folks, and they haven't made up their minds yet. It's always a toss-up between the mountains and the seashore. I generally vote for the shore, though I wouldn't mind a trip across the mill-pond. However, I suppose I'll have to stick with the family. Well, are you ready?" "Yes. Come along, Grit!" and Dick had to brace himself against the demonstrative leaps of the fine animal that was delighted at going on a jaunt with his master. "I guess I'll leave word that if Uncle Ezra should come in while we're out, he can wait here for us," went on Dick, and on his way out he spoke to the care-taker in charge of the dormitory. "I have to be decent to him, if he did treat me pretty mean," went on Dick. "After all, he thinks he's doing right, and he is my dead mother's brother." "Did he say what his business was around here?" asked Paul. "No, but you can be pretty sure it is something to do with money. Probably Uncle Ezra is coming to collect some bill." "I'm glad I don't owe him anything, Dick." "The same here. He'd get the last penny from you. I pity anyone who does owe him, if he can't pay. Here, Grit, you never mind that cat," for the bulldog, with a low growl and a raising of the hair on the ridge of his back, had shown an inclination to chase a cat that scuttled across the drive from the barrack stables where the troop horses of the military academy were kept. "That must be a strange feline," remarked Paul. "Grit knows all the regulars." "Guess you're right, Paul. There goes Beeby. Hi, Innis!" Dick called to a tall cadet, crossing the parade ground. "Want to come for a walk?" "Can't--I've got some work to do." "'Work was made for slaves,'" quoted Paul. "Then I'm a slave," retorted Innis Beeby. "See you later," and he turned into his dormitory. Paul and Dick kept on by themselves, meeting chums and acquaintances occasionally, until they were well away from the military academy, swinging along a country road at a good pace--heads up, shoulders back and with a true military carriage, attained only after long practice. "Which way?" asked Paul, as they came to a place where the road branched off, one highway leading to Lake Wagatook, and the other to a small town about two miles away. "Let's go in to Westville. I want to see about getting a new collar for Grit. No, I didn't call you," he said to the bulldog, who came back on hearing his name.