"I was quite surprised to know that you and Guy were friends," went on Glen. "Oh, yes, I've known Guy for some time," said Dick, not caring to go into particulars, and tell what a mean trick Guy, in company with Simon Scardale, had once played on him. "So he says. He speaks very highly of you. I've known him for some time. He and I used to be quite chummy. But I had no idea you and he lived in the same town, until he spoke of it in his letter. He mentioned that you attended this academy, and asked if I was acquainted with you. I wrote back and said that I was." Dick looked rather surprised at this, as well he might, for, beyond a mere nod, Glen had never shown that he knew him. "I don't suppose I am as well acquainted with you as I might be," went on the young "sport," calmly, "and that's my fault. I've been so busy attending to my studies, that I haven't had much time for social calls." Neither had many of the other cadets, Dick thought bitterly. "But I'll make amends now," went on Glen. "I want to get to know you better, because we both have the same friend in Guy Fletcher." Dick didn't think it worth while to state that Guy was no particular friend of his, since certain happenings told of in the first volume of this series. But Glen continued: "I wish you'd come to a little spread I'm giving to-night. Just a small affair for some of the freshmen." "I'll come," promised our hero, glad of the chance to meet some of his classmates informally. "It won't be as elaborate as the one I hear you gave," went on Glen, "for I'm not a millionaire," and he laughed. "But I'll do the best I can." At first Dick thought he was going to have a good time at the affair, for the guests, most of whom were of the "sporting" element, greeted him cordially enough. But when Glen produced several bottles of beer, and some cigars, Dick felt uneasy. It was an offense, calling for severe punishment, to have intoxicants or tobacco in the academy, and Dick realized that discovery might come any moment. Still, he did not want to bring upon himself ridicule, and perhaps anger, by leaving. "Have some beer, Hamilton," urged Glen. "It's the right sort of stuff. I had it smuggled in from town. And these are prime cigars. I snibbled some from dad's stock before I came away." "No, thank you," replied Dick. "I don't care for any." "What, don't you drink?" "No." "Aw, you don't know what life is. Have a cigar then." "No, I don't smoke, either." "Humph! You're a regular molly-coddle, you are," said Glen, with a brutal laugh. Dick flushed. "Maybe," he admitted, as pleasantly as he could, "but I have an idea I shouldn't drink or smoke while in training, if for no other reason." "Your training doesn't seem to be doing you much good," said another cadet. "You haven't had a show in any of the games yet. Better quit training and have some beer." "No, thank you. Maybe I'll get a chance to play to-morrow."