“You’d think they were a bunch of professionals to hear them talk,” came a low, sneering voice to the ears of the three chums, when the captain walked away. There was no need to ask who had spoken. It was Pug Kennedy, and he was standing just outside the dressing room, talking to one or two of his special cronies. He did not have many associates. His “scrappy” nature prevented this. “I’ve a good mind to go over and give him a punch,” declared Ned, angrily. “He’s made too many of those uncalled-for remarks of late. I’m not going to stand it!” “Don’t start a row now,” advised Jerry. “It will spoil all the fun. Let him alone. I heard something to the effect that he was going to apply for a transfer, and if he does he won’t bother us any more.” “I hope to goodness he does,” said Bob. “He makes me tired!” Pug gazed over in the direction of the three friends, almost as if inviting trouble, and then, seeing that they were not going to resent the remark he had made with the intention that they should hear it, he lighted a cigarette and strolled out into the darkness. Discipline was somewhat relaxed on account of the minstrel show, and permission was given for the men to remain up an hour later than usual, while the guard lines were extended to allow considerable strolling about. “Come on, let’s go for a walk,” suggested Bob. “It will cool us off.” “What, walk with this black stuff on our faces?” exclaimed Ned. “If any one sees us we’ll be taken for negroes.” “What of it?” asked Jerry. “Every one knows what’s going on. Besides, we can’t wash up yet. We have to go on in the final chorus in about an hour. I’m with you, Bob! We’ll take a walk and cool off.” They strolled through the camp, and presently found themselves near its outskirts. They had plenty of time, as they had finished their special part of the programme, and only came on in the grand “wind-up.” As they were walking along, talking intermittently of the show and the chances of going “over there,” Bob, who was slightly in the lead, called in a low voice: “Look, fellows! See him!” “See who?” asked Ned. “Do you mean Pug Kennedy?” “No, but look over under that light!” went on Bob, pointing. “Don’t you see that man. It’s Crooked Nose again! Come on! We’ll get him this time!” and he started to run, followed by Ned and Jerry, who did, indeed, see in the glare of a camp light, the form of a man. And, as he momentarily turned his face toward them, they saw that his countenance was marred by a bent and crooked nose. The boys gave pursuit, their faces still blackened. CHAPTER XXV “A PRISONER” “What’s he doing here?” “Where’s he going?” “Did he see us?” These were the questions asked in turn by Ned, Bob, and Jerry, as they slipped along in the darkness, following the man with the crooked nose, whom they had so unexpectedly seen. “Maybe he came to laugh at us for the way the tables were turned on us, the time we tried to catch him in the farmer’s barn,” suggested Jerry.