d.i.c.k was beginning to feel a trifle dizzy. He turned aside. Dutton took a step forward, in spite of his strained ankle.

"Hamilton," he said, and there was a husky note in his voice.

d.i.c.k turned back.

"Hamilton--I--er--I--I--will you shake hands?" asked Dutton suddenly, and he seemed much affected.

d.i.c.k grasped the outstretched hand, and the two, one of whom had been an unrelenting enemy of the other, looked into each other's eyes.

"Hamilton," went on Dutton, still holding d.i.c.k's hand, "I don't know how to thank you. Will you--will you forgive me?"

"Oh--there's nothing to forgive," said d.i.c.k.

"Yes, there is," said Dutton huskily. "I've treated you--I've been a cad, that's what I have! I didn't like you at first--I thought you were proud of your millions. I didn't like the idea of you being here--I was jealous, I guess. I wanted to make you quit. It was I who tied your dog to the saluting gun, and tried to throw the blame on you. I've done other mean things. I--I----"

"Forget it!" said d.i.c.k so heartily that the other cadets laughed, and thus broke what was becoming quite a strain.

Major Webster, when he heard the beginning of Dutton's confession, walked away. He was a wise old soldier, and he knew that the lads could best settle those things among themselves.

"And you don't bear me any grudge?" asked Dutton, after a pause.

"Not a bit. But you'd better get back to the hospital and have your ankle looked after," for Dutton was limping.

"Oh, that isn't anything. It might just as well have been my head. But, say, you got a nasty dig."

"Only a scratch," replied d.i.c.k with a happy laugh. He would have welcomed another one if it could have insured him such an outcome as had followed this.

"I guess we'd better take you both to the hospital," said Butler, who had ridden up, fearful lest he had seriously injured d.i.c.k.

And thither the two wounded cadets were taken, though their stay there was brief.

It was a week after the sensational rescue of Dutton that a meeting of the exclusive society of the Sacred Pig was held in the cosy little club-house which had been built by contributions and donations of the cadets themselves or their fathers. Dutton arose and proposed d.i.c.k for membership, the election being unanimous.

The next day being Sat.u.r.day, was an occasion for the cadets enjoying considerable freedom. It was after the evening parade, when d.i.c.k and some of his new chums had received permission to go to town to a theatrical performance, that Major Webster sent for our hero.

"I'll not keep you a moment, Hamilton," he said, "as I know your friends are waiting for you. But you remember that battered marksman's medal that Toots had, and which you requested me to investigate for you?"

"Yes; have you any information about it?"

"I have. I sent it to a friend of mine, an officer at Fort Laramie, Wyoming, and he has just returned it. With it he sends some surprising news."

"What is it?"

"That medal was issued to Corporal William Handlee, a number of years ago."

"Corporal Handlee--the missing soldier--Captain Handlee's son?"

"The very same."

"Why, how--where did Toots get it, I wonder? Is it possible that he----"

"We must ask him. I will question him to-night, and let you know the result. Hark, there he comes now."

Someone was coming down the corridor, whistling the lively strains of "Yankee Doodle."

"That's Toots," said d.i.c.k with a smile. "I wonder how he came to have Handlee's medal. Can he possibly be----"

But at that instant there came a series of excited shouts from outside.

"Fire! Fire! Fire!"

d.i.c.k and the major rushed to the window.

"Fire! Fire!" shouted Toots, as he ran back along the corridor.

d.i.c.k saw a black pall of smoke, through which shot red tongues of flame.

"It's the society house of the Sacred Pig," he cried.

And it was from the windows of the meeting place of the cadets' society that the flames were shooting.

CHAPTER x.x.xI

d.i.c.k WRITES A CHECK--CONCLUSION

As d.i.c.k, followed by the major, rushed from the barracks to go to the fire, the housekeeper thrust an envelope into the young millionaire's hand.

"It is a telegram that just came for you," she explained.

d.i.c.k shoved it into his pocket without opening it. Then he joined the throng of excited and alarmed students that had gathered about the burning society headquarters.

A small fire department was maintained at the academy, but as the buildings of the school were all fireproof, the brigade was not a very large one, and was only equipped with chemical apparatus.

"We must telephone for the town fire department," cried Dutton.

"They won't get here in time to do much," said Major Webster. "Better save what you can inside, boys."

They saw that what he said was true. There was a stiff wind blowing, fanning the flames to furnace heat. The blaze had started on the upper floor, and had already eaten its way through the roof. No one knew what had caused the fire, as there was no one in the place when it started, and it had burned for some time before breaking out.

Fortunately, the structure was well away from any of the academy buildings, and there was little danger to them.

"Let's save what we can!" cried d.i.c.k, and the boys began running in, carrying out such of the trophies as they could find on the lower floor.

But it soon became too hot for them, and Major Webster, fearing someone would get hurt, ordered the work of salvage to cease.