"Why don't you?" suggested his roommate. "Some of the other cadets are allowed special privileges, why don't you ask if you can bring Grit here? You could keep him in the stable." "I believe I will," said Dick, and he sought and received permission from Colonel Masterly to do this. A few days later Grit arrived, and he was probably the happiest dog living, as Dick took him out of the shipping crate. The animal bounded about, and fairly leaped over his master's head in the excess of his joy. Grit made friends with such few chums as Dick had among the freshmen, and they were not many, for Dutton's influence seemed even to extend to them. The advent of the bulldog appeared to further arouse the ire of the young captain. "I expect our millionaire cadet will be having a private menagerie next," he said with a sneer. "But I tell you one thing, Hamilton, if I catch the brute around my quarters I'll kick him out." "I shouldn't advise you to try it," said Dick coolly. "It might not be healthy--for you." "Do you mean that you'd attack me?" asked Dutton, taking a step toward Dick. "No, but Grit might; eh, Grit, old boy." The dog growled in a menacing manner, and Dutton, turning on his heel, made off up the campus, but the scowl he gave Dick augured anything but well for the young millionaire. It was about a week after this when, one evening, Dick, who was sitting in his room, studying with Paul, suddenly exclaimed: "There, I've left my algebra out under the three elms. I was studying there this afternoon." The three elms were a clump of giant trees on the campus, and a recognized stamping ground for the freshmen, who frequently studied there, when it was too hot in their rooms. "Better go out and get it," advised Paul. "It looks like rain, and you know it means a demerit to have soiled books." "Guess I'll slip out and get it," decided Dick. "I'll have just about time enough before taps." He started down the long corridor, but he had not taken a dozen steps before taps was sounded on the bugle, the plaintive call of "lights out" vibrating clearly on the night air. "Better come back," advised Paul, from the open door of their room, as he prepared to turn out the electric lamp. "No, I think I'll chance it," decided Dick. "No one is likely to see me, and I might as well get a demerit for this as for having a rain-soaked algebra. Leave the door open so I can find the place in the dark." He kept on, stealing quietly down the hall. Paul went to bed, and was just dozing off when he was startled by the loud report of the cannon used for firing the sunrise and sunset guns. The echoes thundered among the academy buildings, and were re-echoed from the distant hills. Paul arose. Clearly some of the cadets were up to a trick, and had fired the gun. A few minutes later Dick came running into the room. "Did you get the book? Who fired the gun?" asked Paul in a whisper.