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CHAPTER XII
READY TO BREAK THE CAMEL'S BACK
From Thanksgiving to Christmas the time seemed to fly all too fast
for most of the young men of the corps of cadets.
Dick Prescott, however, had never known time to drag so fearfully.
Cut off from association with any but Greg, Dick had much, very
much time on his hands.
Full of a dogged purpose to stick to his word given to Lieutenant
Denton, Prescott used nearly all of his waking time in study when
he was not at recitation. In his classes he soared. In engineering
and law, the studies of this term which called for the most exacting
thought, Prescott showed unusual signs of "maxing," or getting
among the highest marks. Yet, after all this was done, so much
leisure did the lonely Dick have that he found time to coach Greg
and pull him along over the hard parts.
"Look at that fellow recite! Look where he stands in the sections!"
growled Durville in bewilderment to Jordan.
"It looks as if the sneak meant to stick," uttered Jordan incredulously.
"Yet of course he knows he can't. If it were only for West Point
he might stick, but the Army, through his lifetime, would be just
as bad for him."
It had been a general notion that Prescott, either too proud or
too stubborn to allow himself to be forced out, would wait and
"fess out cold" at the January semi-annuals. Thus he would be
dropped for deficiency, and would not have to admit to anyone
that he had allowed himself to be driven from the Military Academy
by the "silence" that had been extended to him.
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