Dick Prescott's Third Year at West Point; Or, Standing Firm for Flag and Honor

Produced by Jim Ludwig
DICK PRESCOTT'S THIRD YEAR AT WEST POINT or Standing Firm for Flag and Honor
By H. Irving Hancock
CHAPTERS I. On Furlough in the Old Home Town II. Brass Meets Gold III. Dick & Co. Again IV. What About Mr. Cameron? V. Along a Dangerous Road VI. The Surprise the Lawyer Had in Store VII. Prescott Lays a Powder Trail VIII. A Father's Just Wrath Strikes IX. Back to the Good, Gray Life X. The Scheme of the Turnback XI. Brayton Makes a Big Appeal XII. In the Battle Against Lehigh XIII. When the Cheers Broke Loose XIV. For Auld Lang Syne XV. Heroes and a Sneak XVI. Roll-Call Gives the Alarm XVII. Mr. Cadet Slowpoke XVIII. The Enemies Have an Understanding XIX. The Traitor of the Riding Hall XX. In Cadet Hospital XXI. The Man Moving in a Dark Room XXII. The Row in the Riding Detachment XXIII. The Degree of Coventry XXIV. Conclusion
My son, Richard. He is home on his furlough from the Military Academy at West Point.
Words would fail in describing motherly pride with which Mrs. Prescott introduced her son to Mrs. Davidson, wife of the new pastor.
I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Prescott, said Mrs. Davidson, looking up, for up she had to glance in order to see the face of this tall, distinguished-looking cadet.
Dick Prescott's return bow was made with the utmost grace, yet without affectation. His natty straw hat he held in his right hand, close to his breast.
Mrs. Davidson was a sensible and motherly woman, who wished to give this young man the pleasantest greeting, but she was plainly at a loss to know what to say. Like many excellent and ordinarily well-informed American people, she had not the haziest notions of West Point.
You are learning to be a soldier, of course? she asked.
Yes, Mrs. Davidson, replied Dick gravely. Neither in his face nor in his tone was there any hint of the weariness with which he had so often, of late, heard this aimless question repeated.
And when you are through with your course there, pursued Mrs. Davidson, do you enlist in the Army? Or may you, if you prefer, become a sailor in our—er—Navy?