Prescott!"
Dick started to his feet so suddenly that his right almost tripped
over his left.
One of the other candidates near by tittered. That caused Dick's
face to turn redder than ever.
Mr. Ward, however, looked up at the boy with a kindly smile.
"State your full name, Mr. Prescott."
Dick did so.
"When and where born? Give date and place."
By this time Dick was beginning to find his voice. The excess of
color began to recede from his face. He had already, almost
unconsciously, passed over the sealed envelope which he had
received from the adjutant in a room on the same floor at
headquarters.
Prescott was quickly breathing at his ease. He discovered that the
entire ordeal consisted of giving his family history, with dates.
Then he stepped back. Another name was called.
"Don't let that rattle you a bit, Greg," whispered Dick, when he had
dropped back into his seat beside his chum. "Mr. Ward doesn't do
anything but take your pedigree."
"Mr. Holmes!"
Greg got up with nearly all of his self-possession about him. He
was just returning to sit by his chum when the nattiest, sprucest-
looking soldier imaginable, wearing the olive-drab fatigue uniform
of the Army and overcoat to match, stepped into the room.
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