Major Webster rode up quickly, and was glad to find that neither Dick nor Dutton was seriously hurt.
"Who caught my horse?" asked Dutton, as he struggled to his feet. "The last I remember was seeing him running toward the artillery animals, and I made up my mind there'd be quite a smash when they met."
"They didn't meet, thanks to Dick Hamilton," said the elderly major. "He stopped your horse just in time."
"And got a nasty cut into the bargain," added another cadet.
Dick was beginning to feel a trifle dizzy. He turned aside. Dutton took a step forward, in spite of his strained ankle.
"Hamilton," he said, and there was a husky note in his voice.
Dick turned back.
"Hamilton—I—er—I—I—will you shake hands?" asked Dutton suddenly, and he seemed much affected.
Dick grasped the outstretched hand, and the two, one of whom had been an unrelenting enemy of the other, looked into each other's eyes.
"Hamilton," went on Dutton, still holding Dick's hand, "I don't know how to thank you. Will you—will you forgive me?"