The furloughed second class returned, the encampment ended and the corps marched back into cadet barracks.
The new academic year had begun, with new text-books, new studies, new intellectual torments for the hundreds of ambitious young soldiers at the United States Military Academy.
By this time both Dick and Greg had acquired the habits of study so thoroughly that neither any longer feared for his standing or markings.
To Prescott there was one big comfort about being back in the old, gray cadet barracks.
The silence put upon Dick was not now quite as much in evidence. With long study hours, Prescott had not so much need to meet his classmates.
In the section rooms nothing in the deportment of the other cadets could emphasize the silence.
It was only in the authorized visiting hours that Prescott noted the change keenly.
Of course, according to the traditions of the Military Academy, Anstey and all the other loyal friends who ached to call were barred from so doing.
While taps sounds at ten o'clock, and members of the three lower classes must be in bed, with lights out, at the first sound of taps, first classmen are privileged, whenever they wish, to run a light until eleven at night, provided the extra time be spent in study.
One evening in early September, Dick and Greg were both busy at study table, when Dick chanced to look over some papers connected with his studies. As he did so, he drew out an officially backed sheet, and started.
“Jupiter!” he muttered. “I should have turned this in before supper formation.”
“Who gets the report?” asked Greg, looking up.
“It goes to the officer in charge,” Dick answered.
“Oh, well, he's up yet. You can slip over to his office with it,” replied Greg easily.
“And I'll do it at once. It may mean a demerit or two, for lack of punctuality, but I'm glad it's no worse.”
Jumping up and donning his fatigue cap, Prescott thrust the neglected official report into the breast of his uniform blouse, soldier fashion.
Then he walked slowly out, halting just inside the subdivision door.
“I don't mind a few demerits, but I don't like to be accused of unsoldierly neglect,” mused the young cadet captain. “Let me see if I can think up a way of presenting my statement so that the O.C. won't scorch me.”
As Dick stood there in the gloom, a quick, soft step sounded outside. Then the door was carefully opened, and a young man in citizen's dress entered.
Civilians rarely have a right, to be in cadet barracks at any time of the day. It is wholly out of the question for one to enter barracks after taps.
“What are you doing in here, sir?” Dick questioned sternly, putting out his hand to take the other's arm.
Then the young cadet captain drew back in near-horror.
“Good heavens! Durville?” he gasped.
“Yes. Sh!” whispered the other cadet, slinking back, a frightened look in his eyes.
No cadet, while at West Point, may, without proper permission, appear in any clothing save the uniform of the day or of the tour. No cadet ever attempts to don “cits.” unless he is up to some grave mischief, such as leaving the post.
“Don't say a word! Let me reach my room!” whispered Durville hoarsely.
Dick Prescott wished, with all his heart, to be able to comply with the other cadet's frenzied request.
But duty stepped in with loud voice. As a cadet officer, as captain of Durville's company, Prescott had no alternative within the lines of that duty. He must report Cadet Durville.
“Now, don't look at me so strangely,” begged Durville. “Let me go by, and tell me you'll keep this quiet. By Jove, Prescott, you know what it means to me if I'm placed on report for—-this!”
“Yes, I know,” nodded Dick, dejectedly, and speaking as hoarsely as did the other man. “Oh, Durville, I wish I could do it, but——-”
Dick had to clench his fists and gulp hard. Then the soldier in him triumphed.
“Mr. Durville”—-he spoke in an impassive official tone, now—-"you will accompany me to the office of the officer in charge, and will there make such official explanation as you may choose.”
“Prescott, for the love of——-” began the other over again, in trembling desperation.
“About face, Mr. Durville. Forward!”
Now, all the gameness in the other cadet came to the surface. He wheeled about, head up, his clenched fists seeking the seams of his condemning “cit.” trousers. Durville marched defiantly out into the quadrangle, across and into the cadet guard house, up the flight of stairs and into the office of the officer in charge.
Lieutenant Denton was again O.C. that night.
Both cadets saluted when they entered after knocking.
Lieutenant Denton glanced in sheer dismay at the “cit.” clothes worn by Durville.
“Sir,” began Dick huskily, “I regret being obliged to report that I just discovered Mr. Durville entering the sub-division in citizen's dress.”
“Have you any explanation to offer, Mr. Durville?” asked Lieutenant Denton in his official tone.
“Very good, Mr. Durville. You will go to your room and remain in close arrest until you receive further official communication in this matter.”
Durville spoke in steady, if icy tones, as he saluted and made this response.
Like one frozen, the cadet in unfamiliar attire turned and left the office.
“How did you happen to make the discovery, Mr. Prescott?” gasped the O.C.
“I discovered, sir, that I had overlooked this report, which I now turn in, sir,” Dick replied rather hoarsely. “It was just as I was about to leave the sub-division that Mr. Durville came in. I had no alternative but to report him, sir.”
“You are right, Mr. Prescott. As a cadet officer you had no alternative.”
Then, with a memory of his own West Point days, Lieutenant Denton unbent enough to remark feelingly:
“You have unassailable courage, too, Mr. Prescott.”
“You have finished your official business?”
Saluting, Dick turned from the office. As he pushed open the door and reentered the subdivision, he beheld Durville, standing there with arms folded.
“Possibly at the risk of being reported for breaking my arrest, Mr. Prescott,” began Durville, “I have lingered here to say to you that you have succeeded in wreaking a most complete revenge upon one who led a bit in having the silence conferred upon you.”
All Dick's reserve melted for an instant.
“Durville, man—-you—-don't believe I did this for—-for revenge?” Prescott demanded.
Cadet Durville smiled sarcastically.
“I shall undoubtedly be broken for this night's affair, Mr. Prescott, and you and the rest will continue to believe that I was absent merely on some vulgar escapade! I go, now, to my arrest, which is doubtless the last military service I shall be called upon to render. Mr. Prescott, I congratulate you, sir, upon your ability to spy upon other men and to serve your highest ideas of suitable vengeance.”
Gloomily Durville turned to his room. Dick almost stumbled to his own quarters.
Greg Holmes's face blanched when he heard the news.
“There'll be fine class ructions by to-morrow!” he told himself with unwonted grimness.
