"Come," cried the young millionaire, and Toots, the odd character, entered, carrying a pail of hot water. "One of the janitors is sick," he explained, "and I'm helping out. You can use this for shaving or drink it, just as you like," he added with a smile. He filled the boys' hot water pitchers, and was about to leave the room, when he caught sight of the photograph of Corporal Bill Handlee on the shelf. "Where--where did you get that?" he asked, turning quickly to the two lads. "Why?" asked Dick, much impressed by the manner of Toots. "Because I--I think I know him--or did once," and the man set down his pail of water, and drew his hand across his forehead, as if trying to brush away some cobwebs. Dick noticed that there was a scar on the man's brow. "Where did you see him? When was it? Where was it?" asked Dick rapidly, thinking he had stumbled on a clue. "I don't know--I can't recollect, but the face--that face seems familiar," and Toots, taking up the photo, gazed earnestly at it. "That is the picture of the missing son of an old soldier who lives in Hamilton Corners," said Dick. "Captain Handlee asked me to make some inquiries about him. It's queer you should think you recognized it, Toots. Were you ever in the army?" The man shook his head slowly. "I don't know," he said. "I'm a fine shot though. I ought to be in the army." Dick felt a new hope. The missing man said he was an expert marksman. But then Dick recalled what he had heard about Toots; that the man had a delusion that he was a sharpshooter, but that he could scarcely hit the outer edge of a big target. "Can't you recall where you have seen this man?" asked Dick earnestly. Toots slowly shook his head. "What was his name?" he asked. "Corporal Bill Handlee." "No, that name doesn't sound familiar. But I'm sure I've seen him somewhere. I can't think--something seems to stop me here," and the man again passed his hand across his forehead. "Try," urged Dick. Toots made a strong effort to recall the past, but it was of no avail. He shook his head once more, picked up his pail, and started out. "I guess I'm mistaken," he said. "But some day you boys must come and see me shoot. I'm a dandy at it." Then he went down the corridor whistling "The Star Spangled Banner," and ending up with a spirited rendition of the bugle call to charge. "That's queer," murmured Dick. "I thought I was going to get some news for Captain Handlee. Well, I must inquire of Major Webster." "Hark," exclaimed Paul, as a bugle sounded clear and crisp on the morning air. "Reveille--first call! Ten minutes to dress and turn out," said Dick, who had been studying the rules, and he began to get into his uniform. CHAPTER VIII DICK GETS A FALL