"Oh, he's not seriously ill," said Dick. "I had a letter from Henry Darby about him. He's so pleased that you have been located, that a sight of you is about all the medicine he needs."
"I can go home to him in a few days, Colonel Masterly says."
"You want to give us an exhibition of shooting before you go," suggested Dick.
"I'm afraid I'm all out of practice," objected the former corporal.
But he was not, as he very quickly proved, when he and some chums of Dick went to the rifle range. There the soldier made bullseye after bullseye with an ease that made the cadets fairly gasp, and he did all sorts of fancy shooting, including driving a tack in a board from even a greater distance than even Captain Handlee had boasted that his son could do it.
"I guess it must have been that my eyes were affected by that Indian bullet," said the corporal. "They got all right again when the stone from the fire hit me."
Later, the surgeon admitted that this was probably true.
A short time after this Corporal Bill Handlee joined his aged father in Hamilton Corners, and the two enjoyed many happy years together, thanks to Mr. Hamilton's generosity, and what Dick had done to solve the mystery.
"Well, Grit, old boy," said our hero one day near the close of the term, as he was strolling over
