"Good-day, Mr. McLean," said the man with chevrons. "Don't disturb yourself, I'll not come in. I know you've been hard at it this morning, and I really hate to ask you to go out again,--but in such a case,"--and Mr. Prank gazed into the glowing sunshine in deep perplexity. Magnus, watching from the depths of the tent, saw the gleam which no effort of Prank's could keep out of his eyes, with the dangerously solemn lines about the mouth. But poor Rig at such honeyed words from an upper classman, lost what little everyday perception belonged to him. "He's just got to learn for himself, though," thought Magnus, looking on with intense amusement. Mr. Prank suddenly turned and glanced suspiciously down towards the listener; but Magnus was all quiet, behind his letter. "You see, Mr. McLean," Prank went on, dropping his voice a little, "I want a man I can trust, to do me a small service. If you are not too much fatigued--it would not take long." Visions of Mr. Prank for his bosom friend, and Camp Hard suddenly transformed into Elysium, floated before Rig's eyes. "Yes, sir,--no, sir," he answered, gathering up the points. "It is really but a minute's work," said Prank with another glance over Rig's head towards Magnus; "but a particular friend of mine has gone on guard without his gloves. Most absent-minded man alive! And if the Com. comes along, he's ruined. So I thought if you would just take them to him--you see _I_ should have to report him. He's on post No. 6." Mr. Prank held out a pair of immaculate white gloves. But now Rig drew back. To waylay a sentinel on his beat, was something so clearly beyond pleb limits that he took fright. "Yes, sir," he began; "certainly, sir. But you know, sir, it's against orders, I believe----" Mr. Prank drew himself up to all his inches. "That will do," he said. "Of course, I don't know much about regulations and never heard the orders. Very kind of you to instruct me, I am sure; I shall not forget it! Sorry to have disturbed your toilette, Mr. McLean, but I thought such a trifle could not seriously put you out. Someone else, probably, will be kind enough--whose hair curls easier than yours." And tucking the white gloves into the cadet pocket (his sleeve), Mr. Prank strode haughtily away. Rig felt miserable. He did not see that Magnus in his dark corner was shaking from head to foot. But to lose his character for obligingness! With a bound he was after the retreating chevrons. "Oh, Mr. Prank!" he said. "Of course I didn't mean that you didn't know, sir; and I have just thought of a way, if you think it will do. I can hang the gloves on one of the bayonets where the arms are stacked, you know, sir, and then he can get them for himself." "The very thing!" said Prank, with a well-kept face. "I see you are bright, Mr. McLean, as well as obliging. Take the gloves, my dear fellow, and be quick. And count upon me hereafter."