"Better go out and get it," advised Paul. "It looks like rain, and you know it means a demerit to have soiled books."
"Guess I'll slip out and get it," decided Dick. "I'll have just about time enough before taps."
He started down the long corridor, but he had not taken a dozen steps before taps was sounded on the bugle, the plaintive call of "lights out" vibrating clearly on the night air.
"Better come back," advised Paul, from the open door of their room, as he prepared to turn out the electric lamp.
"No, I think I'll chance it," decided Dick. "No one is likely to see me, and I might as well get a demerit for this as for having a rain-soaked algebra. Leave the door open so I can find the place in the dark."
He kept on, stealing quietly down the hall. Paul went to bed, and was just dozing off when he was startled by the loud report of the cannon used for firing the sunrise and sunset guns. The echoes thundered among the academy buildings, and were re-echoed from the distant hills. Paul arose. Clearly some of the cadets were up to a trick, and had fired the gun.
A few minutes later Dick came running into the room.
"Did you get the book? Who fired the gun?" asked Paul in a whisper.
"Yes, I got the algebra, and, just as I did the gun went off. I saw some of the fellows running, and of course I was running too, but, just as I was coming in, Stiver, who is doing guard duty, saw me."
"What did he say?"