Prescott felt sure that he himself had not yet been seen by the
Army officer.
Slipping out from behind the bush, Cadet Prescott stepped briskly along the path, bringing one hand sharply to his cap in salute.
"Captain Bates, have I your permission to speak, sir?"
Dick Prescott's voice, though not unduly loud, carried like a pistol shot to Greg's alert ears.
Young Mr. Holmes did not immediately change his course, start or do anything else that would betray alarm. Yet, ere Captain Bates's voice could be heard in reply, Greg had swung slowly around, and he came toward the path.
"Permission is granted, Mr. Prescott," replied Captain Bates—-but, oh, how coldly he spoke.
The Army officer seemed trying to look Mr. Prescott through and through, for Bates thoroughly suspected Dick of a bold stroke to save his friend from watchful tac. eyes.
"There was a question that came up among some of the yearlings in camp today, sir," Dick went on, very respectfully. "I found myself ignorant, as were some of the others, as to the correct answer to the question. As you are the officer in charge of the encampment, I have made bold, sir, to ask you the answer."
"Is it a matter relating directly to military tactics or discipline,
Mr. Prescott?" asked Captain Bates, speaking as coldly as before.
"Indirectly, sir, I think."