matter over carefully. Just as they came in sight of the Hall they saw a buggy drive away from the entrance and turn in the direction of Cedarville, the nearest village.

“There goes the head teacher, a fellow named Crabtree,” said Bock. “The fellow driving him is Peleg Snuggers, the general helper. Boys, outside of some help that doesn’t count, the coast is clear!”

“I’ve got a scheme,” said Grimes. “Let us hide the auto in the woods, and then disguise ourselves as tramps by rubbing dust on our faces and putting on the old auto dusters. Then we can sneak up to the school building and the gym., and learn how the land lays.”

“Yes,—and turn things inside out,” answered Roy Bock, with a gloating look. “Oh, won’t they be surprised when they get back to-night!”

The suggestion to hide the touring car and disguise themselves was quickly put into execution, and then, with great caution, the six students from Pornell Academy leaped a side hedge and made for the gymnasium. Here they spent nearly half an hour in “fixing things up” to their satisfaction. Then they entered the school building by a side door, and while three went to the library and classrooms the others ascended to the dormitories. They took care to keep out of the way of all the hired help, although to do so taxed their ingenuity to the utmost.

“Now, I reckon we have done something toward squaring accounts,” remarked Roy Bock, as he led the way back to the touring car. “Even the servants won’t be able to straighten things out. When those folks get back they won’t know their own school!”

CHAPTER III
AT TARGET PRACTICE

“Here we are! Now to make nothing but bull’s-eyes!”

It was Pepper who spoke, as the Hall cadets came to a halt in Rawling’s pasture,—a lot containing nearly a hundred acres which were almost as smooth as a barn floor. It had taken the battalion almost an hour to march there, and the students were allowed half an hour in which to rest up previous to beginning the contest on the three ranges which had been established in the pasture. The ranges were of one hundred yards, two hundred yards, and three hundred yards, the last named distance being deemed sufficiently great for the light rifles the cadets used. Had they had arms of greater caliber, Captain Putnam would have made the long range five hundred yards.

“I don’t expect to make very much of a score,” said Andy Snow. “I am not much of a shooter. Now if it was a contest in the gym.——”

“Andy would win all the medals,” finished Jack, with a laugh.

“I’d rather have a fishing contest,” put in Stuffer, who loved to go out with his rod.

“Sure, and what’s the matter wid an eating contest, Stuffer?” inquired Hogan, with a broad grin. “I’m after thinking you’d take the head prize there—and all the others, too!”

“Huh, you needn’t talk,” grumbled Stuffer. “I notice you can do your share when we sit down in the mess hall.”

“That’s one thing I like about Putnam Hall,” declared Fred Century. “A fellow always gets enough to eat—at least I do. Now at Pornell Academy the meals were very uneven. The dinners were usually good, but some of the suppers were woefully slim.”

“If the meals were slim here I’d rebel,” answered Pepper.

“So would I!” cried Stuffer. “I’d raise the biggest kick you ever heard of.” How true their words were to become we shall see later.

The shooting soon began—at a distance of one hundred yards, and for two hours there was a steady crack! crack! of the rifles.

Each cadet had three shots at each target. A bull’s-eye counted five, so a perfect score would total up to forty-five.

On the short range, Jack managed to make three bull’s-eyes, thus scoring 15. Pepper got 13 and Andy 11. Much to his own delight Reff Ritter got 15, although one of his shots barely touched the bull’s-eye. Coulter received but 9, much to his disgust. The other cadets ranged from 10 to 5,—the five being made by Mumps, who was almost afraid to discharge his weapon.

ON THE SHORT RANGE, JACK MANAGED TO MAKE THREE BULL’S-EYES.

“Wouldn’t Mumps make a fine soldier!” whispered Pepper to Jack. “If he saw the enemy approaching he’d run for all he was worth.”

“If he didn’t get too frightened to move,” added the young major.

“He certainly is both a coward and a sneak.”

At the two-hundred yard range Jack made 14, while Pepper finished with 13, the same as before. The long-range shooting was not to take place until after lunch.

“I don’t know whether to call it my unlucky thirteen or not,” said The Imp. “It’s not so good as your score, but it’s better than some others.”

“It is certainly lucky,” answered Andy, who had made but 9 on the middle range. “If you do so well on the long range you’ll be one of the leaders.”

“Reff Ritter made 14,” put in Joe Nelson. “He and Jack and Bart Conners are tied for first place so far.”

“Coulter had dropped behind, and Paxton’s score isn’t much better than Mump’s,” came from Dale Blackmore.

“I’ve got two elevens,” said Fred Century. “I don’t think that’s so bad for a fellow who hasn’t used a rifle for some years.”

Lunch was had in the shade of a number of trees growing at the edge of the pasture. While the cadets were eating many of them stacked their rifles and hung their belts and cartridge boxes on the weapons. Jack put aside his sword and also the gun and cartridge holder he had been using. There was a small brook nearby, fed by springs, and in this many of the boys washed their hands and faces before eating.

While the meal was still in progress Gus Coulter motioned to Reff Ritter and Nick Paxton, and the three drew away from the crowd and into some bushes behind the trees.

“I’ve got an idea,” said Coulter, in a low voice. “I don’t know if we can work it or not, but if we can—well, somebody will be surprised, that’s all.”

“What’s your idea?” demanded Ritter.

“I was hanging around when Bob Grenwood, the quartermaster, was giving out the ammunition for the shooting after lunch, on the three-hundred yard range. I heard him say that he had brought along a case of blanks by mistake. He said they looked a good deal like the cartridges that had bullets in. Now if we could get hold of that case of blanks——”

“We can do that easily enough,” interrupted Nick Paxton. “The case is right over yonder, on a rock.” And he pointed with his hand.

“I reckon I know what you mean,” said Reff Ritter, a wise look coming into his face. “You mean for us to get the blanks and substitute them for the regular cartridges some of the fellows intend to use.”

“Exactly. Can we do it?”

“I don’t know. But it’s a great scheme. I’d like to put it up Ruddy’s back—and up Ditmore’s back, too.” Ritter bit his lip in thought for a moment. “Let’s see if we can get hold of that case of cartridges anyway.”

With great care the plotters stole through the bushes and up to the rock upon which rested the case containing the blank cartridges. All of the other cadets were busy lunching and nobody noticed them as they hauled the box out of sight.

“The cover is loose,