"
"Very good, sir," Prescott answered, saluting.
"And then you may go to your own tent and retire, Mr. Prescott.
I fancy the plebes have been good to-night."
"Thank you, sir."
With a rather heavy heart, though outwardly betraying no sign,
Prescott walked along until he reached Jordan's tent, where he
delivered the order from the O.C.
"Did you hear that, old man?" growled Jordan to his tentmate,
after the cadet captain had gone.
"Pretty rough!" returned the tentmate sleepily.
Rough? The first class was seething when it received the word
next morning, for it was the common belief that Prescott must
have shadowed and followed his classmate in order to entrap him.
"It's surely time for class action now," Durville told several
of his classmates.
CHAPTER IV
THE CLASS COMMITTEE CALLS
Outwardly A company and the entire corps of cadets was as placid
and unruffled as ever when the two battalions marched to breakfast
that morning.
One conversant with military procedure, however, would have noted
that Jordan, being a prisoner, marched in the line of the file
closers.
And Mr. Jordan's face was wholly sulky, strive as he would to
banish the look and appear indifferent.
Even to a fellow naturally as unsocial as the cadet now in arrest,
it was no joke to be confined to his tent even for the space of
a week, except when engaged in official duties; and to be obliged,
two afternoons in a week, to march in full equipment and carry
his piece, for three hours in the barracks quadrangle under the
watchful eyes of a cadet corporal.
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