Pretending not to have seen the officer, Cadet Kelton drew in his breath with a sharp whistle. It was not loud, but it was penetrating, and it carried the warning.
Swift as a flash Prescott caught upside-down Mr. Ellis, and fairly rolled him out under the canvas edge at the back of the tent.
Greg instantly shoved the prostrate Mr. Briggs through by the same exit.
Fortunately both plebes were too much astonished to utter a sound.
"Crouch and scowl at me, Greg—-hideously whispered alert-witted
Dick."
As he spoke, Prescott swiftly crouched before Holmes. Dick's hands rested on his knees; he stuck out his tongue and scowled fiercely at Holmes, who tried to repay the compliment with interest.
Although all the yearlings in the tent had been "scared stiff" at Kelton's low, warning signal, all, by an effort, laughed heartily, their gaze on Prescott and Holmes.
"Yah!" growled Dick. "Perhaps I did steal the widow's chickens, and I'll even admit that I did appropriate the pennies from her baby's bank. But that's nothing. Tell 'em about the time you stole the oats from the blind horse's crib and put breakfast food in its place."
Everyone of the yearlings in the tent knew that trouble stood at the door, and that they must keep up the pretence.
There was a chorus of laughter, and two or three applauded.