Slowly, with evident reluctance, the figure moved forward.
"Mr. Jordan!" called Prescott, in considerable amazement.
"Yes, sir," admitted Jordan huskily.
Now, Dick had every reason in the world for not wanting to report
this cadet again, but duty is and must be duty, in the Army.
"Mr. Jordan, you are under orders of confinement to the company
street," cried Dick sternly.
"Yes, sir."
"And yet you are found outside of camp limits? Have you any
explanation to offer, sir?"
"I was nervous, sir," replied Jordan, "and couldn't sleep. So
I slipped out past the guard line to enjoy a quieting smoke."
"Smoking causes vastly more nervousness than it ever remedies,
Mr. Jordan," replied the young cadet captain. "Have you any additional
explanation or excuse for being outside the company street?"
"No, sir."
"Then return to your tent, sir."
"I---I suppose you are going to report this, Mr. Prescott?" asked
the other first classman.
"I have no alternative," Dick answered. "You are under confinement
to the company street; you have made a breach of confinement, and I
am your company commander."
"Very good, sir."
Jordan stiffened up, saluted, then passed on across the guard
line, making for the street of A company.
Dick turned back, more slowly, a thoughtful frown gathering on
his fine face, while the yearling sentry was muttering to himself:
"Great Caesar, but Prescott surely has put both feet in it.
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