But Greg was one of the last fellows in the world to permit himself to be "frozen."
"I mean what I say, Haynes," he retorted plumply. "With that thing in the toe of your boot something would be likely to happen when some other horse's flank bumped you on the right. And, by George, it's Prescott who rides at your right in platoon or column of fours!"
Greg shot a look full of keen suspicion at the turnback.
"And it was Prescott who rode on your right the day he was thrown from Satan!" flashed Greg, his face going white from the depth of his sudden feeling. "Haynes, did you have that pin in the toe of your boot the day that Prescott was thrown in the riding hall?"
"You——-" Haynes began, at white heat, clenching his free fist.
"Answer me!" broke in Greg insistently.
"I did not!"
"I don't believe you!" shot back Cadet Holmes
"Confound you, sir, do you mean to call me a liar?" hissed the turnback.
"Yes!" replied Greg promptly.