And with a shake of the head at his own musings, Cadet Charlemagne made the boat fairly spin till it reached the landing, and dashed into the sallyport with full five minutes to spare. The Fourth of July that year rose exceedingly hot. A misty haze veiled the mountains, the dew lay thick on every blade of grass; the silent black-mouthed guns were dripping with moisture. Being a holiday, even the reveille gun took an extra nap; and the camp lay in absolute stillness for a half hour beyond its usual time. Only the sentries paced up and down in the heightening glare; and far away in the Logtown regions you could hear the sputtering of fire-crackers and know that Independence Day was begun. Meanwhile, by the same token, a lively ambush was preparing in the quiet camp--a thing not distinctly set down and forbidden in West Point rules, and with what we call constructive evidence cadets concern themselves but little. And so with happy unconcern, Magnus and Twinkle, and pretty much all the first class who were not on duty, arranged the frolic. And for once the plebs liked their orders. Up came the sun, touching Crownest, gilding Fort Putnam, peering into every bush and tree; and from the other side up came the band, their white helmets making a winding line of light across the plain. They took post at one corner of the camp; and then, as the Stars and Stripes swung slowly up to the head of the flagstaff, began their march and their music, saluting the colours. You have all heard how the piper of Hamelin played the rats out, where none were seen before; and something like that happened now. The camp was for all useful purposes asleep. But as soon as the inspiring notes of "The Red, White, and Blue" broke up the stillness, there came a stir. At quick step, and to a full-blast medley of national airs, the band passed through the camp; up A Company Street and down B Company Street; and as they went, out poured a chance-medley crowd to match. A crowd of plebs, wrapped in sheets, in blankets, in every sort of harum-scarum costume; with brooms for muskets, and the strict orders of upper classmen for regulations. With all other cadet eyes peering through tent curtains to watch, the crazy throng came after the band in full procession. And even when the officer in charge woke up to the state of things, these agile boys kept out of the way; slipped through between tents to the next Company street, and then re-forming and marching on joyously, until, as the band came round to its starting point, and "Yankee Doodle" filled all the air, the queer contingent drew up in order before them, solemnly presented arms (alias broom-sticks) scattered, dived, and disappeared. And only the most sedate and orderly faces could be seen at roll-call. That was great fun. Better than the Fourth of July dinner, Magnus declared.