But duty stepped in with loud voice. As a cadet officer, as captain
of Durville's company, Prescott had no alternative within the
lines of that duty. He must report Cadet Durville.
"Now, don't look at me so strangely," begged Durville. "Let me
go by, and tell me you'll keep this quiet. By Jove, Prescott,
you know what it means to me if I'm placed on report for---this!"
"Yes, I know," nodded Dick, dejectedly, and speaking as hoarsely
as did the other man. "Oh, Durville, I wish I could do it, but-----"
Dick had to clench his fists and gulp hard. Then the soldier in
him triumphed.
"Mr. Durville"---he spoke in an impassive official tone, now---"you
will accompany me to the office of the officer in charge, and
will there make such official explanation as you may choose."
"Prescott, for the love of-----" began the other over again, in
trembling desperation.
"About face, Mr. Durville. Forward!"
Now, all the gameness in the other cadet came to the surface.
He wheeled about, head up, his clenched fists seeking the seams
of his condemning "cit." trousers. Durville marched defiantly
out into the quadrangle, across and into the cadet guard house,
up the flight of stairs and into the office of the officer in
charge.
Lieutenant Denton was again O.C. that night.
Both cadets saluted when they entered after knocking.
Lieutenant Denton glanced in sheer dismay at the "cit.
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