But, by dint of much thinking, he began to feel that he saw the way of working to Prescott's complete disgrace.
Dick, in the meantime, was still writing occasionally for "The Blade." "I'm afraid you've slipped away from us, Dick," declared Mr.Pollock, with a wry smile.

"If you go to West Point and pass the exams.
there, then newspaper work is going to lose one of its bright, promising young men." "But I always told you that my plans would undoubtedly take me away from 'The Blade' when my High School life was done with," Prescott answered.
"Yes; but why do you want the life of the uniform?
That's what I fail to understand?
Why don't you go into something connected with the pulsing everyday life of the country?
Here you are, going away to bury yourself in a uniform.

You'll work, of course; the Army is no place for loafers.

But after all, you're only preparing for war, and you may be an old, white-haired officer before we have another war." "If that war does come in your life time," returned Dick, "you'll know what we of the uniforms have been working for all along.
You'll realize, then, that an Army's biggest work isn't fighting, in time of war, but preparing in time of peace.

And you'll thank every one of us when the time comes." "Oh, yes, I suppose so," smiled the editor.