brick structure, and the hackman lifted down his trunk and suitcase.
"Do they expect you?" asked the driver.
"I think so," replied our hero, hoping that some arrangements had been made for him.
A moment later a door opened, and a flood of light streamed out from a broad hall. A man in semi-military uniform appeared.
"Who's there?" he asked, and, having spoken he began to whistle a few bars from "Marching Through Georgia," ending up with a bugle call.
"Got a cadet for you, Toots," replied the hackman.
"A cadet?" and once more the man in the hall whistled a martial air.
"That's what I said, Toots. Give me a hand with this trunk, will you, and tell Colonel Masterly that he's going to have company."
"My name's Hamilton," began Dick. "I believe my father arranged"
"Oh yes, the colonel told me to look out for you," said the man who looked like a soldier. "Come right in. The colonel will be here directly. I'll take your baggage."
"Thank you—er Mr." and Dick hesitated, for he did not just know how to address the person in the hall, and wanted to make no mistake in bestowing a military title.
"Me? Oh I'm Sam Sander," said the man in the blue suit, apparently surprised that his identity was not known.
