"Mr. Prescott," he demanded, "do you realize what you are saying—-what you are doing?"
"You are relieved. You will report yourself to the instructor, sir!" Dick cut in tersely.
Anstey was already chasing the yearling squad out with the balks, and the young men were moving fast.
As for Dick Prescott, he did not favor Mr. Jordan with a further glance or word, but walked with swift step back to the task of which he was in charge.
With face flushed, Mr. Jordan walked over to the instructor, reporting himself as directed.
"Dismissed from to-day's instruction," said the Army officer briefly.
"Wait and return with the detachment, however."
So Cadet Jordan, first class, saluted, turned on his heel, sought the nearest shady spot and sat down to wait.
His body idle, the young man had plenty of time to think—-about
Cadet Captain Dick Prescott.
"There's nothing to Prescott but swagger and cheap airs," decided Mr. Jordan, idly tossing pebbles. "It's a pity he can't be taken down a peg or two! And now I'm in for demerits before the academic year starts. Probably I shall have to walk punishment tours, too!"
Somehow, Jordan had come along through his more than three years in the corps without attracting much attention.