“Going to have a rooster fight?” whispered Sam. “They’re real sports up here, after all.” “Sh-h-h,” warned Dan. “I think it must be something else. They wouldn’t have rooster fights here.” The officer was explaining to them the various movements in the physical drill, calculated to give the boys a powerful physique as well as great suppleness. He described the movements as “full sweeps,” “body circles” and “side stoop,” which latter Sam characterized as the back porch movement. These, after being executed, were followed by a hurdle race. When the announcement was made that this would be next on the program the boys could scarcely repress a cheer. But the hurdle race was not to be the harum-scarum, go-as-you-please contest that they had been in the habit of playing. Instead, it was an orderly, systematic race in which the line formation was supposed to be kept throughout. However, the lads went at it with a will. The variety of the work kept them constantly interested. There was not a dull or tiresome moment in all that morning’s work, the instructor leading them from one thing to another until the faces of the apprentices glowed and their eyes sparkled with excitement and pleasure. “Halt!” The movements had come to an end for the day. “Next will be a cock-fight. You young apprentices may not understand the game, so we will let the older men go through a brief battle while you look on.” The plan of the game was for the boys to form in two lines some ten paces apart and at the command “hop,” they were to hop forward on the left or right foot as the case might be and attempt to bowl their adversaries over. “I’ve played that game,” whispered Sam. “Let me get into it and I’ll show them a cock-fight that will make the fellows green with envy.” “Fall in, apprentices!” came the command. The lads obeyed with alacrity. “Do you see the Pennsylvania Dutchman over there on the other side?” whispered Sam. “Yes.” “Well you watch Pennsy. I’m going to pluck that rooster’s tail feathers, or my name isn’t Sam Hickey.” “Be careful that you do not do anything that will bring a reproof. You will get a mark against you, if you do.” “Don’t you worry. The marks will be on Blinkers, not on me.” “Attention!” The boys straightened. There was a grin on the face of Sam Hickey, and had one been an observer, he would have noticed another on the face of Louis Flink. “Right foot, hop!” Fifty apprentices began hopping across the floor, some losing their balance and measuring their length upon the drill floor at the first jump. Sam did not appear to be noticing the adversary he had picked out. Neither did Flink seem to have Sam in mind. However, all at once both boys made a sudden turn. They lunged toward each other like two human projectiles. The impact of their bodies when they came together, was heard all over the drill room and the lads bounded back, hopping in a circle, for several seconds, to catch their balance.