d.i.c.k did not move.

"Here, Drew, Butler, Graham!" called Captain Dutton. "Here's a chance to practice first aid to the injured. See what's the matter with him."

The three cadets he had named galloped forward, while the remainder of the company came to a halt.

CHAPTER IX

WHO FIRED THE GUN?

"Pick him up, and see if he's hurt," ordered Dutton though he did not take the trouble to get off his horse to ascertain. "Very likely he's only shamming."

But is needed only a look at d.i.c.k's pale face to show that he had had a hard fall. The breath was knocked out of him.

The three cadets bent over him, and, while one raised him to a sitting position, the others chaffed his hands. d.i.c.k opened his eyes, and stared wonderingly about him.

"What--what--where am I?" he asked, and then he saw the mounted students, he added, "I fell."

"Are you hurt?" asked Graham.

"No--no, I guess not."

But when d.i.c.k tried to stand he found he was so dizzy that his fellow cadets had to support him.

"Take him back to the hospital," ordered Dutton, "and then you three rejoin your company."

At that moment Major Webster, who had been drilling some of the older cadets, in advanced tactics on a distant part of the field, came galloping up.

"What has happened?" he asked. "Ah, Hamilton, eh? Are you hurt?"

"I fell off my horse. He bolted with me," replied d.i.c.k.

"Are you sure you're not hurt?"

"Yes; only a trifle dizzy."

"I'm sending him back to the hospital," announced Dutton.

"That's proper. Are you sure you'll be all right, Hamilton?" asked the major kindly.

"Oh, yes. I believe I can ride now."

"No, I can't allow it. You must take a rest."

On the way back with the cadets, d.i.c.k insisted that he could go alone, and did not need help.

"Orders are orders," replied Graham with a smile. "Dutton might make a fuss if we didn't do as he said."

"It was all his fault," added Paul Drew. "He deliberately collided with you, d.i.c.k."

"Oh, no; I hardly think he would do that!"

"But he did," insisted Butler. "He didn't need to gallop in front of you that way. I looked just as if he wanted to unseat you, didn't it, fellows?"

"That's right," added Paul. "I'd report him if I were you."

"Oh, no," answered d.i.c.k quickly. "There's no use making trouble. Even if he did do it on purpose, I wouldn't gain anything by reporting him.

I'm no squealer."

"But you might have been badly hurt," said Butler.

"I wasn't though, and a miss is as good as a mile."

"That's a good way of looking at it," commented Paul. "I'd feel like fighting him, if he did that to me."

"Say, I'm all right. There's no need for you fellows to come back with me," went on d.i.c.k.

"If we don't Dutton may make a row," objected Butler. "We'd better do it."

Not wanting to get his fellow cadets into trouble, d.i.c.k allowed them to accompany him to the hospital, which was maintained by the academy.

There the surgeon in charge, a grizzled war veteran, felt of our hero's bones, and announced, gruffly, that he was all right, but that he had better rest a while.

Which d.i.c.k was glad enough to do, as his head was beginning to ache.

"Dutton must want to get rid of me," he thought, as he stretched out on the bed in his room. "If he keeps on I shall certainly have a clash with him, and then I s'pose there'll be trouble. I don't want to fight, but I'm not going to submit to his meanness. I certainly am under a handicap here. I wish I could ask dad to send me to some other school. No, I don't either. I'll fight it out here, and I'll win, too, or I'll know the reason why!"

Major Webster, when he returned from the drill, inquired how d.i.c.k felt, and received the a.s.surance that the lad was all right.

"We must give you a quieter horse," he said with a smile.

"Oh, no, I can manage him all right," said d.i.c.k. "Captain Dutton--er--he and I happened to collide, or it never would have happened."

"Strange, Dutton is an excellent rider," commented the major as he walked away.

A slight headache the next day was all the ill effect that d.i.c.k experienced from his tumble. He appeared at chapel, and took part in all the day's duties. For a week or more life went on rather uneventfully at the academy. d.i.c.k had a letter from his father, stating that business was likely to keep him abroad longer than he expected.

d.i.c.k also got a letter from Henry Darby, giving some news of Hamilton Corners, and telling how d.i.c.k's chums missed him. The letter closed with this:

"Grit misses you very much. He doesn't eat hardly anything, and he lies in his kennel all day."

"Poor Grit," said d.i.c.k to Paul, and he told of his bulldog. "I wish I could have him here with me."

"Why don't you?" suggested his roommate. "Some of the other cadets are allowed special privileges, why don't you ask if you can bring Grit here? You could keep him in the stable."

"I believe I will," said d.i.c.k, and he sought and received permission from Colonel Masterly to do this.