And then suddenly Bull's voice rose above the excitement again.
"Look! Look!" he cried. "If you don't believe me look and see for yourselves. There he goes now!"
The cadets stared across the parade ground and then shouted aloud for joy.
Down on the road by the cavalry plain a single lone figure was walking, a figure clad in the "plebe" uniform. And the figure was that of Mallory!
Mark as he walked did not observe the group of cadets who were glaring at him so angrily. It would not have worried him if he had, for he had something a good deal more important to occupy his mind just then. He was racking his brains to think of some plausible reason to account for his errand at the moment.
He had been, along with the rest of the plebe company, lined up on one side of the camp for drill. A tactical officer had been rigidly putting them through the manual of arms, with half a dozen yearling corporals and file closers aiding him. And then, breathless with running, an orderly had burst upon the scene.
He had a note in his hand, and he handed it to the "tac." The latter read it, then read it aloud—again.
"Cadet Mallory will report to the superintendent at once."
That was all; the rest of the class stared and wondered, and Mark stepped out of the line, handed his gun to the orderly, and strode away from the scene.
The yearlings, as we have seen, had a good deal clearer notion of why Mark was wanted than he had himself. To Mark it was an absolute mystery. He knew no reason on earth why the superintendent should want him, and he quickened his pace so as to get there and find out the sooner.