"
Greg went away, humming under his breath.
"There's a chap whom care rarely hits," mused Dick, looking half
enviously after his chum. "I wonder really if he ever will marry?"
Presently Dick picked up his camp chair and placed it just outside
at the door of his tent. It was pleasant to sit there in the
semi-gloom.
But presently he began to wonder, a little, that none of the fellows
dropped around for a chat, for he was aware that a number of the
first classmen were not booked for the hop that night.
From time to time Dick saw a first classman enter or leave the tent
of Cadet Jordan.
"He seems unusually popular to-night," thought Prescott, with
a smile. "Well, better late than never. Poor Jordan has never
been much of a favorite before. I wonder if my reporting him
to-day has made the fellows take more notice of him? It is a
rare thing, these days, for a first classman to be confined to
his company street."
For Prescott the evening became, in fact, so lonely that presently
he rose, left the encampment and strolled along the road leading
to the West Point Hotel. On other than hop nights, this road
was likely to be crowded with couples. That night, however, nearly
all of the young ladies at West Point had been favored with invitations
to Cullum Hall.
Tattoo was sounding just as Prescott crossed the line at post
number one on reentering camp.
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