So he and Anstey presented themselves at Dick and Greg's door.
Bert was almost amazed to find himself pleasantly greeted, but
Dick and Greg were true to their decision to bury the hatchet of the
past if possible.
It was nearly time to light the gas. In the fading light Anstey
walked over to a window, watching the snow swirl down into the
area outside. At West Point the snowstorms are famous for their
severity.
"Hang it!" growled Anstey. "I don't suppose you can ever make a
Virginian like myself grow to like this beastly winter weather. And
I miss the drills and dress parade. Don't you?"
"Yes," nodded Dick. "I miss everything of an outdoor nature, when
it is withheld from me."
"Oh, if you're missing outdoors just now, you might go out and
keep on, within cadet limits, until you've tramped five miles,"
grinned the cadet from Virginia.
"If some of the upper class men found that we liked to be out in a
snowstorm, I'm afraid they'd make us stand on our heads in a
drift," laughed Cadet Holmes.
"Speaking of that," continued Anstey, wheeling about, "have any
of you fellows run into real hazing as yet?"
"Not I," replied Prescott, with a shake of his head.
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