anyway,” reported Ritter. “Guess I’ll take a few out, just for luck,” and he appropriated about a dozen blanks.

“Take out the top layer,” suggested Coulter. “Then Grenwood won’t be so apt to notice that the box has been trifled with.” And he and Paxton did so. Then the cover was slid into place once more and the case was restored to its original position. The blanks certainly looked like full cartridges, being tipped with silvery paper.

“Now to do some substituting,” said Reff Ritter. “That’s the hardest part of the job. Some of the fellows are hanging around those cartridge belts and boxes.”

“Maybe we can get them to walk away,” suggested Coulter. “Get them interested in something, you know.”

“I have it!” cried Ritter. “Nick, you walk down in the woods on the other side of the brook and yell like mad. Say you saw a big snake, or something. That will draw the crowd, and then Gus and I can get in our work with the blank cartridges.”

“I’ll do it,” answered Nick Paxton, and hurried around through the bushes and across the brook. He had been gone about five minutes when the cadets at lunch, as well as Captain Putnam and the others, heard a great yelling.

“Help! help! A snake! A snake!”

“What’s that?” exclaimed half a dozen, and then, as the yelling was continued, a rush was made in the direction of the brook.

“Now is our chance,” said Ritter to Coulter, and then the pair stole out of the bushes and in the direction of the stacked arms and the cartridge belts and boxes.

“What’s the matter, Paxton?” demanded Captain Putnam, who was the first to arrive at the spot from whence the cries for help emanated.

“A snake, sir!” answered the cadet glibly. “Ugh! He ran right between my legs!” And Paxton pretended to shiver.

“A snake!” cried several.

“Where is it?”

“Why didn’t you kill it?”

“Yes, a snake, and—and I guess it was a rattler, too. It was about that long,” and Nick Paxton held his hands as far apart as possible. “I couldn’t kill it for I didn’t have a thing in my hand. I—er—I looked for a rock, but the snake was too quick for me.”

The news that a snake was around—and that it might be a rattlesnake at that—alarmed many of the cadets, and some of them recrossed the brook to the open pasture. But others, and Captain Putnam, began a hunt for the reptile, but, of course, without success.

“We may as well give up the search,” said the master of the Hall, after a hunt of ten minutes. “If it was a rattlesnake it has managed to get away.”

“What was you doing here, Paxton?” asked Andy.

“Why I—er—I came over to look for—er—for ferns,” stammered the youth who had played the trick.

“Ferns? Didn’t know you were interested in ferns,” observed Joe Nelson, who was something of a collector of plants himself.

“Oh, I do a little collecting now and then,” answered Paxton, and then walked off, to escape being questioned further.

Half an hour later the noonday rest came to an end and the target practice was again taken up. In the presence of his pupils Captain Putnam took several shots at the long distance target, making a bull’s-eye each time. Then he and the old army officer who had been hired showed the boys how to fire to the best advantage.

Reff Ritter was one of the first to shoot at the three hundred yard target, and much to his chagrin got only three fours—a total of 12. Coulter got but 9, and Paxton 7.

When Jack stepped to the front with the rifle and cartridge box he had been using Reff Ritter winked suggestively at Coulter and Paxton.

“Now we’ll see something rich!” whispered Coulter.

“Hush! you want to keep this to yourself,” warned the bully of the Hall.

“Now, Jack, a bull’s-eye!” said Pepper to his chum.

“Right in the middle of the eye, too,” added Andy.

“I’ll do what I can,” answered the young major, modestly.

With great care he took aim at the target and pulled the trigger. There was a crack and a flash and then a moment of breathless waiting.

“Missed!”

“He didn’t hit the target even!”

The announcement was true, and the young major turned a trifle pale in spite of his efforts to control himself.

“Don’t fire hastily, Major Ruddy,” said Captain Putnam kindly. “Draw a bead directly on the center of the target.”

“I—I—thought I did,” stammered Jack.

Again the rifle was raised. Jack was now a bit nervous, yet he managed to steady himself ere he took another shot. His aim was directly for the center of the target.

“Another miss!”

“Why, Jack, what’s got over you?” cried Pepper, real distress showing in his voice.

“I—I don’t know,“ faltered the youthful major.

“Don’t you feel well?” asked Stuffer. “Or is it your eyesight?”

“Yes, I feel well enough—and my eyesight is all right.”

“Maybe you had a blank cartridge,” cried Dale, suddenly.

This remark caused Jack to look at the remaining cartridges he possessed. Captain Putnam insisted upon examining them also, for he, too, was unwilling to believe that the young officer has made a total miss of the two shots.

“These are certainly ball cartridges,” he said, as he looked them over. “Nothing wrong there. You must have been careless in your aim, Major Ruddy.”

“Captain Putnam, I did the very best I could,” pleaded Jack.

“Well, you have one more shot,” answered the master of the school.

As pale as a sheet the young major of the battalion walked to the front once more and raised his rifle. For several seconds there was a deathlike silence. Then came another crack and flash and a moment of suspense.

“Hurrah! A bull’s-eye!”

“That’s the time you did it, Jack!”

“Why didn’t you do that before?”

With a long breath, Jack lowered his rifle and, turning faced the master of the school:

“Captain Putnam,” he said in a low but firm tone. “I made a bull’s-eye that time because there was a bullet in the cartridge. I am satisfied now that my other two shots were blanks.

CHAPTER IV
THE BLANK CARTRIDGES

For the moment after Jack spoke so positively there was a silence. Captain Putnam looked at the young officer thoughtfully.

“Huh! that’s all tommy-rot!” observed Reff Ritter. “He missed and that is all there is to it.”

“Of course he missed,” chimed in Coulter. “He isn’t a crack shot by any means.”

“What makes you so certain that the first two shots were blanks, Major Ruddy?” asked the master of the school, somewhat sternly.

“Well, sir, I think my record helps to prove it,” answered Jack. “At the hundred-yard target I made three bull’s-eyes; at the two-hundred-yard target I made two bull’s-eyes and a four; now I have made a bull’s-eye and two blanks. Doesn’t it stand to reason, sir, that if those cartridges had not been blanks I would at least have made a two or a one?”

“It is probable, yes,” answered the captain, thoughtfully. “But I did not know any blanks had been brought along, much less dealt out.”

“I brought a case along by mistake,” put in Bob Grenwood. “But as soon as I discovered my mistake I put the case to one side. There it is, sir, on yonder rock.”

“I see. You are sure you didn’t hand any