"No; it would look bad. We had no hand in this, and we can stick to our word."
Over at camp, orders were ringing out. Though the two cadets near Battle Monument heard indistinctly, they knew it was the call for the cadet guard.
Now the nearest runner passed them. It was Captain Bates, on a dead run, and, as Bates was not much past thirty, and an athlete, he was getting over the ground fast.
As he passed, Bates, without slackening speed, took Dick and Greg in with one swift glance.
Back in Gridley Dick and Greg certainly would have dashed onward to the scene of the excitement. As young soldiers, they knew better. Their presence over by Battle Monument had not been officially requested. Yet, as it was not time for taps, the cadets could and did stand where they were.
Two different armed forces were now moving swiftly forward to reinforce the O.C., as the officer in charge is termed.
Two policemen of the quartermaster's department—-enlisted men of the Army, armed on with revolvers in holsters—-ran over from the neighborhood of the nearest officers' quarters.
Cadet Corporal Haynes and the relief of the guard, moving at double quick, passed Dick and Greg on the path.
"Some fellows touched off firecrackers," whispered Greg to his chum.
"Number one cannon crackers," guessed Prescott.