The latter part of the night had been cool. Now, in the brief space before dawn the air was positively chilly.
Greg shivered.
Perhaps it was the chill of the air. It is also extremely likely that Greg Holmes dreaded the conflict that was about to come off with big Butler.
Be that as it may, Cadet Holmes went on briskly with his dressing. The bravest man is he who, though afraid, goes straight ahead to the goal of battle despite his fears.
Greg was more sensitive about blows than was his chum. Until he got into the heat of action Cadet Holmes dreaded the very idea of giving or taking a blow. There are many soldiers like this; but when they get into action they are the bravest of the brave.
Dick and Anstey were also getting themselves swiftly in readiness. To Dick, veteran of three West Point fights, the greatest cause for regret seemed to lie in being robbed of some of their much-needed sleep.
In almost no time, so it seemed, three cadets fully attired in uniform, stole cautiously from the tent, slipping down the company street.
Dick carried Greg's fighting clothes. Cadet Anstey carried a bucket in which lay a sponge.
Whether cadet sentries on guard deliberately aid in letting fight parties slip across a post it would be impossible to say. Certain it is that Mr. Prescott, in the lead, reconnoitred carefully, then crossed the post at the point furthest from the sentry's half-audible footsteps. His two friends slipped over with him.
The faint gray of earliest dawn was just showing through the trees when the plebe trio came in sight of the famous hollow below old Fort Clinton.