Excerpt: ""A letter for me, did you say?" The speaker was a tall, handsome lad, a plebe at the West Point Military Academy. At the moment he was gazing inquiringly out of the tent door at a small orderly. The boy handed him an envelope, and the other glanced at it. "Cadet Mark Mallory, West Point, N. Y.," was the address. "I guess that's for me," he said. "Thank you. Hello in there, Texas! Here's a letter from Wicks Merritt." This last remark was addressed to another cadet in the tent. "Texas," officially known as Jeremiah Powers, a tall, rather stoop-shouldered youth, with a bronzed skin and a pair of shining grey eyes, appeared in the doorway and watched his friend with interest while he read. "What does he say, Mark?" he inquired, when the latter finished. "Lots," responded Mark. "Lots that'll interest our crowd. They ought to be through sprucing up by this time, so bring 'em over here and I'll read it." "Sprucing up" is West Point for the morning house-cleaning in the summer camp. A half hour is allowed to it immediately after breakfast, and it is followed by "the A. M. inspection." In response to Mark's suggestion, Texas slipped over to the tent in back of theirs in "B Company" Street, and called its three occupants. They came over and joined those in Mark's tent; and then Mark took out the letter he had just received. "I've got something here," said he, "that I think ought to interest all of us. I guess I'll have time to read it before inspection. We are a secret society, aren't we?" "That's what we are," assented the other six."But what's that got to do with it?" added Texas."