"A soldier shouldn't play baby forever," returned Dick. "And
I have permission, or I wouldn't be here."
"I don't like it," muttered Anstey.
Furlong, Griffin and Dobbs all had something to say.
Haynes didn't let a word escape him, but his eyes lighted with evil joy.
"Now, I can finish the job, I guess," throbbed the evil one.
The detachment to which Prescott and some of his friends belonged was formed and marched through one of the sally-ports. Just beyond, a corporal and a squad of men from the Regular Army cavalry sat in saddle. Each enlisted man held the bridle of another horse than the one he rode. As the corporal dismounted his men, the cadets, at the word from their marcher, moved forward and took their mounts. At the command, the detachment rode forward, by twos, at a walk, down the road that led to the cavalry drill ground below the old South Gate.
It was Greg who rode beside his chum. In the drill, later, when in platoon front or column of fours, it would be Haynes who would ride on Dick's left.
The turnback had already made sure that his useful black pin was securely fastened inside his fatigue blouse.
Arrived at the drill ground, the cadets dismounted, standing by their horses in a little group until Captain Albutt should ride out of one of the cavalry stables and take command.
Haynes, with a rapid throbbing of his pulses, bent forward and down, pretending to examine his horse's nigh forefoot.