True, some score and a half of plebes were found deficient, and sent back to their homes.
The same thing happened to a few of the third classmen.
All of the members of the first class succeeded in passing and in graduating into the Army.
The poor plebes who had failed had been mournfully departing, one at a time.
These unhappy, doleful young men felt strangely uncouth in the citizens' clothes that they had regained from the cadet stores.
Yet everyone of these plebes received many a handshake from the upper classmen and a hearty good wish for success in life.
More doleful still felt the dropped third classmen, who had been at the Military Academy for two years, and who had thoroughly expected to "get through" into the Army somehow.
It was now a little before the time when cadets must hasten to quarters to attire themselves for dress parade.
Several score of cadets still lingered in the quadrangle when Greg Holmes and Pierson suddenly appeared, heading straight for one of the largest groups, in which Dick Prescott stood.
"Heard any news lately?" asked Greg, a pleased twinkle in his eyes.