Campfires were soon ablaze, and the appetizing smell of coffee and steaks filled the air. The cadets opened their haversacks, and were preparing to eat, having formed into little informal groups, each company by itself. "Say, Stiver," remarked Dutton, to his lieutenant, looking at a field of late sweet corn, which was near where they were camped, "I'd like a few of those ears to roast. How about you?" "Sure's you're a foot high; but you know the orders. Mustn't do any foraging." "Ah, what's the rule between friends? Besides, Colonel Masterly and Major Webster are away over on the other side of the woods. Send some of the freshmen after some corn." "I'm not going to. You can if you want to." "I will. Here, Boardman, you and Booker and Hamilton go and get some of that green corn." "I'll not," replied Dick promptly, who knew that this refusal to obey his superior officer would be upheld, if, indeed, Dutton would dare prefer a charge against him. "Afraid, eh?" sneered the young captain. "Very well, then, you take Hamilton's place, Butler." The three lads designated, either being afraid to incur Dutton's displeasure, or because they wanted some of the corn, quietly sneaked into the field, and quickly returned with big armsful, which were soon put to roast, the husks being concealed under the leaves in the woods. "Maybe, you'll have some?" asked Dutton, in sneering tones, of Dick, as the captain and his cronies began eating the roast corn. "No thank you. Not that I don't like it, but I prefer to get it another way." Dick felt that he was putting himself further than ever beyond the pale of his comrades' liking by his conduct, but he could not help it. The lunch was almost over, and most of the corn had disappeared, when an elderly man, evidently a farmer, crawled through the fence near where Dick's company was. There was an angry look on his face. "Which of you lads stole my corn?" he demanded. "And besides that you trampled down a lot. Who done it? That's what I want to know." There was no need to answer. The evidences of the stolen corn were all about. "I'm going to report this to Colonel Masterly," said the farmer, striding off toward where the superintendent was talking to the two majors. CHAPTER XIII A NARROW ESCAPE "Hold on!" cried Dutton, springing to his feet. "Wait a minute, Mr.--er--Mr.--" "No, you can't come any game like that over me!" cried the angry farmer. "You stole my corn, and trampled a lot of it down. That's agin orders, an' I know it. I'll report to your superior officers, and we'll see how you'll like it." "But--er--but I say--" stammered Dutton, wishing he could do something to placate the man, for he knew that all the blame would fall on him, and that he would be severely dealt with; perhaps reduced to the ranks. "No. I'll not listen to you," replied the farmer. "I'm going to report to Colonel Masterly."