IT is the day of the annual "compet." In the Armory each company is drawn up; the accouterments of each man carefully inspected; every speck of dust sought out and removed; a last rub given each shining gun. The captains draw their number of appearance upon the field. The word is given; out of the hall they march to various parts of the campus, there to await their turn.
   The captain paces nervously before his men, who watch him closely and wonder whether he can successfully carry out his part. The men themselves scarcely speak; each is saying to himself that HE will do his best to make his company the proud possessor of the silver cup; each is going over in his mind the various evolutions and commands, to see if he knows and understands them perfectly.
   A girl comes down the walk towards them. She takes a sword from the lieutenant and steps in front of the company. She is the company sponsor; the captain, now blushing and nervous, comes forward and takes from her the sword which the men have given him as a token of their loyalty and admiration. There is a cheer for the sponsor, for the captain, and for the company and then an orderly comes hurrying up with orders to go upon the field.
   The march is silent, almost grim, as if they are going into a real battle in place of a competition. They go down the walk and through the gate of the athletic field, to halt beside the

judges' tents; then across the field toward the sea of faces in the grandstand. The captain hurries forward, salutes, and receives from the judges the card upon which is the list of evolutions through which his company must go. He studies them for a few moments; he gives the command "Forward, March," and the ordeal has begun.
   "Right by Platoons." The lieutenants hurry forward before their respective detachments. Will they do it right? or will some one make a mistake? The second lieutenant gives his command too soon. The line sways, some trying to correct the mistake by holding back, others following the order blindly. How much will the judges count off the score? Did they, perhaps, fail to notice the error? All kinds of thoughts surge through the minds of the student soldiers, to whom winning means so much. But a moment later another command comes and the line straightens as the movement is executed faultlessly. Confidence again appears, and each one vows to make up for that initial mistake. All goes smoothly for a while, and then a corporal forgets his orders. Again the line is in disorder only to compose itself for the next effort. At last the final command is given and their part is over.
   They march to one side of the field, stack arms, and break ranks to ask the other companies how they did, or to watch and criticise the evolutions of the next contestants. For the first time they pay attention to the crowd filling the grandstand. There are the fair adherents of the various companies, or the friends and relatives who have come to see the show. About the track

and perched upon the fences are students who have before gone through the ordeal, who now cheer the companies of which they were formerly members, or who tell of the mistakes of the others in an attempt to make themselves and their former comrades believe that "Company -- is sure to win."
   An automobile dashes out upon the field, the crowd breaks through the guard and surrounds it. A yell-leader leaps upon the machine and "U-U-U- n-i" rings out in greeting to Governor Wilson of New Jersey. He speaks for a few moments, and then amid cheers leaves the field. The crowd hastens back to its place and the individual "compet" begins.
   Gradually, one by one, the contestants drop out until the number is reduced to three or four. The judge gives command after command, but is obeyed without mistake. One man starts to withdraw; a gasp goes up from his supporters, and then

he is called back-the judges have made a mistake. But it can not go on this way indefinitely. Finally, but one is left. He is given one final command; he executes it -- and then with a wild cheer Company B rushes out to hoist upon their shoulders the winner -- 1st Sergeant Richard Guthrie. The review by the winning company is now to come, and Captain Yates announces the results of the judges' decision so that the companies may form in order of their standing. Around the field they go, colors flying, (the last company as defiantly erect and with as straight a line as any other) past the reviewing officers and Company C, standing proudly at attention.
   Out of the gate they go, the losers shouting their company yell as loudly as the winner; each man feeling that he has at least done his best; each one still proud of his captain and his company. "Compet" is over.