"an invitation! why, surely, man, you must be mistaken. they never invite plebes to the hops."

the speaker was mark. he was sitting with a book in his hand beneath the shade trees at one side of the summer encampment of the corps. at that moment he was looking up from the book at chauncey, who had just approached him.

"an invitation!" he repeated. "i can hardly believe it possible."

"perhaps if you see it you'll believe it more readily, ye know," remarked the dudish cadet.

"seeing's believing, they say," laughed mark, taking it and glancing at the address. "mr. chauncey van renssalaer mount-bonsall," he read. "yes, i guess that's for you. i don't believe there are two persons on earth with that name, or with one so altogether aristocratic and impressive."

mark was glancing at the other out of the corner of his eye with a roguish look as he said that. he saw a rather pleased expression sweep over his face and knew that he had touched his friend chauncey in his weak spot. mark[pg 119] had been removing the contents of the envelope as he spoke. he found a square card, handsomely engraved; and he read it with a look of amazement upon his face—amazement which the other noticed with evident pleasure.

the card had the words "camp mcpherson" over the top, and below in a monogram, "u. s. c. c."—united states cadet corps. at one side was a view of the camp, the highlands of the hudson in the distance. and in the center were the words that had caused all the surprise:

"the pleasure of your company is requested at the hops to be given by the corp of cadets every monday, wednesday and friday evening during the encampment.

"west point, n. y.,

"july 6, 18—."

that was all, except for the list of "hop managers" below. but such as it was, it was enough to cause mark no end of perplexity.

"a plebe invited to the hop," he muttered. "i can hardly believe it yet. there must be some mistake surely. why, man, no plebe has ever danced at a hop in all west point's history. they scarcely know there are such things. just think of it once—we miserable beasts who hardly dare raise our heads, and who have to obey everyone on earth!"

"we've raised our heads pretty well, bah jove," drawled[pg 120] the other. "and we've shown ourselves a deuced bit livelier than the yearlings, don't ye know."

"yes, but we've only done that by force. we've licked them and outwitted them at every turn, something no plebes have ever dared to do before. but simply because we've made them recognize our rights that way is no reason why they should ask one of us to a hop."

"no," responded chauncey, "it isn't. but i know what is."

"what?"

"i've a cousin in new york by the name of sturtevant—deuced aristocratic folks are the sturtevants! ever hear of the sturtevants of new york?"

"er—yes," responded mark, that same sly look in his eyes again. "i've heard of them very often. they are related to the smiths, aren't they?"

"well, not that i know of, bah jove—but come to think of it, my second cousin was a sturtevant and she married one of the de smythes, if that's who you're thinking of."

"i guess that's it," said mark, solemnly. "let it go at that, anyway. but what have the sturtevants, the sturtevants of new york, got to do with a west point hop?"

"it's simply that this cousin of mine, ye know, has a friend up here, a first class man, an adjutant or sergeant[pg 121] quartermaster, or some such deuced animal, i forget just what, bah jove! anyway, i've an idea he got me the invitation."

mark let himself down to the ground on his back and lay there for a few moments after his friend's "explanation," while he thought over it and incidentally kicked a tree trunk for exercise. chauncey waited anxiously, wondering what sort of an effect his announcement of his influential friends would have upon mark.

"those yearlings," began the latter at last, in a meditative, half soliloquizing tone, "have never yet lost an opportunity to annoy us."

"what's this got to do with the hop, bah jove?" interrupted chauncey.

"lots. it's simply this. you have been just as fresh as any of us, chauncey. with all your aristocratic blood, ye know. i saw you nearly whip half a dozen of them one day when they wouldn't stop hazing indian."

"i didn't whip them, bah jove," began chauncey, modestly.

"well, anyhow, they couldn't whip you, and so it was all the same. the point is that they have never done anything to be revenged for the insult. i have an idea that this may be an attempt."

"this!" echoed the other in surprise. "pray how?"

"simply that they'd like to see you come to the hop[pg 122] and have nobody to dance with—for no girl will dance with a plebe, you know, i don't care who he is—and so have to go home feeling pretty cheap. then you'd be the laughingstock of the corps, as the plebe who wanted to dance at the hop."

it was chauncey's turn to be thoughtful then. and to his credit be it said that he recognized the truth there was in mark's explanation of that surprising card. for chauncey was no fool, even if he was dudish and aristocratic.

"i'm afraid that's it," said he. "i'm deuced glad i thought of asking you, mark, ye know. i'll not go to-night. and we'll let the matter drop, bah jove."

"let it drop!" echoed mark; and then he added, with emphasis, "not much!"

"what'll ye do?"

"do? what's the use of having a secret society for the purpose of avenging insults, if you don't avenge 'em? and don't you call it an insult that the yearlings should suppose us big enough fools to take that bait and go to their old hop?"

"it was rather insulting," admitted chauncey.

"it was," said mark. "and what's more, i move that we retaliate this very day. let's go up and find the rest of the seven, and by jingo, perhaps we'll bust up their plaguey old hop!"

[pg 123]with which words mark slammed his book to and arose to his feet and set out in a hurry for camp.

they entered camp mcpherson and hurried up the a company "street" to their own tent. they entered without ceremony, and mark scarcely waited to greet the rest before he plunged right into the subject in hand.

"fellows," he said, "the yearlings have tried a new trick on us; and chauncey and i have vowed to get square, right off."

texas sprang up with a whoop that scared the sentry on the path nearby, and a "wow!" scarcely less voluble. he demanded to know instanter what was up, and danced about anxiously until he managed to learn; when he did learn he was more excited still.

the parson forgot his fossils, and even his "dana" when he heard mark's news, and he rose up and stretched his long, bony arms, inquiring with almost as much anxiety as texas. in fact, the only one of the three who was not excited was "sleepy." his state was that of the tramp, who answered: "why did you come here?" "to rest." "what made you tired?" "gittin' here."

the two other members of the banded seven popped into the tent just then and mark sat down and told them all of the yearlings' plan, as soon as he could manage to get the excitable texas quiet enough. he passed around[pg 124] the invitation which the rest stared at as incredulously as mark had; and then he offered his explanation, and finding that they all seemed to agree with him, stated his purpose to retaliate, with which they agreed still more.

"yes!" cried texas. "come on, let's do it. let's bust up their ole hop! let's raise a rumpus an' scare 'em to death! what d'ye say?"

"i don't think we had better do that," responded mark, laughing. "whatever trick we play has got to have something to do with hop, so as to let them know why we did it. but we broke up one entertainment not a week ago. i think it had better be a quiet trick on some of them, for you know they say that a man may play the same trick once too often."

"let's hold up their ole band," suggested texas, "an' run 'em into the woods an' hide 'em."

"or else," laughed mark, "we might dress up in the band players' uniforms and go in and play hymns for 'em. but i think somebody ought to suggest something that's possible."

"let's put glue on the floor," hinted indian.

"let's dress up as girls and go," laughed dewey.

"or make the parson put in some of his chemicals, ye know, an' smoke 'em all out, bah jove," put in chauncey.

"b'gee!" cried dewey. "that reminds me of another story. you fellows needn't groan," he added, "because[pg 125] this is a good one. and i'm going to tell it whether you like it or not. it's true, too. there was an old professor of chemistry gave a lecture, and there were whole lots of ladies present. we might work this trick some time. a good many of the complexions of those ladies weren't very genuine, b'gee, and not warranted to wear. and some of the chemicals the professor mixed made a gas that turned 'em all blue!"

dewey breathed a sigh of relief at having been allowed to deliver himself of a whole story without interruption; and the parson cleared his throat with a solemn "ahem!"

"the chemicals to which you refer," he began, "were probably a mixture of hydrofluosilicic acid with bitartrate of potassium and deflagisticated oxygen, which produces by precipitation and reduction a vaporous oxide of silicate of potassium and combines——"

"we've only half an hour left before drill," interrupted mark solemnly. "i move that the parson discontinue his lecture until he'll have time to finish it."

the parson halted with an aggrieved look upon his face; and after remarking the surprising lack of interest in so fascinating a subject as chemistry, buried himself in silence and "dana's geology."

"it seems to me," continued mark, after a few minutes' pause, "that we haven't gotten very far in our planning. now i have an idea."

[pg 126]the effect was that of a rainbow bursting through a stormcloud. the seven were all smiles in an instant, and the parson came out of his shell once more and leaned forward with interest.

"what is it?" he cried.

"it won't take long," said mark, "to tell it. you may not like it. it'll take lots of planning beforehand if we do try it. it seems to me that the yearlings have set a trap for us, and want us to walk into it. now, i think we might bid them defiance, and show how little we care for them, by going in right boldly and outwitting them in their own country, that's the plan."

the six stared at him in amazement.

"you don't mean," cried dewey, "that chauncey ought to go to the hop?"

"that's just exactly what i mean," was the answer. "and i mean, moreover, that we ought every one of us to go with him."

"but nobody'll dance with us, man!"

"they won't? that's just exactly the part we ought to fix. grace fuller will, for one, i'm sure. and i'm also sure she can find other girls who will. what do you say?"

they scarcely knew what to say. the proposition was so bizarre, so altogether startling. plebes go to the hop! why, the thought was enough to take a man's breath[pg 127] away. no plebe had ever dared to do such a thing in west point's history. one might almost as well think of a plebe's becoming a captain! and here was mark seriously proposing it!

they had a perfect right to go. they had an invitation, and no one could ask for more. but the freezing glances they would get from every one! the stares, and perhaps insults from the cadets! still, as mark said, suppose grace fuller, the belle of west point, danced with them? suppose all the girls did? suppose, swept away by the fun of "jollying" the yearlings, the girls should even prefer plebes! the more you thought over that scheme the better you liked it. its possibilities were so boundless, so awe-inspiring! and suddenly master dewey leaped up with an excited "b'gee!"

"i'm one!" he cried. "i'll go you!"

"wow!" roared texas. "me too!"

and in a few moments more those seven b. j. plebes had vowed to dance at the hop that night if it was the last thing they ever did on this earth.

"by george!" cried mark, as they finished, leaping up and seizing his hat, "i'm going over to see grace fuller about it now! just you wait!"