Saluting the commandant, Prescott left the cadet guard house, hastening to his own room.

A few minutes later Cadet Holmes burst in upon his chum.

To him d.i.c.k told the whole story of his striking the water, of his swimming to sh.o.r.e, and of hurried trip through the cold night to the nearest house.

"And you're sure you were pushed?" questioned greg thoughtfully.

"Either I was pushed, or it was all a horrid dream," replied d.i.c.k fervently.

"Then why didn't you so tell the K.C.?"

"I answered the K.C. truthfully, Greg. I told him all that I really know. I didn't feel called upon, and wasn't asked, to tell him anything that I guessed."

"What is your guess?" insisted Holmes, with the privilege of a friend.

"Greg, as far as I can be sure of anything without knowing it, I am absolutely certain that a cadet came out of the car, behind me, and that he pushed me off the platform."

"A cadet?" demanded Greg, turning pale. To Holmes it seemed atrocious to couple the word cadet with any act of dishonor.

"Greg, as I plunged through the air, I succeeded in turning a trifle.

I am convinced, in my own mind, that I saw the gray cape overcoat of a cadet I am also certain that I got a glimpse of his face.

The only limit to my certainty is that I wouldn't want to name the man under oath."

"Who was he?" demanded Holmes.

Advancing, placing his lips against one of Greg's ears, Prescott whispered the name:

"Haynes! But you mustn't breathe this to a living soul! Remember, I wouldn't dare swear to the truth of what I've hinted to you."

Greg Holmes, wholly and utterly loyal to the cadet corps of which he was himself an honored member, went even paler. He leaned back against the wall, clenching his fists tightly.

"Haynes?" he whispered. "I don't like the fellow, and I never did. He's no friend of yours, either, d.i.c.k. But he wears the staunch old cadet uniform and has had more than three years of the West Point traditions. It seems impossible, d.i.c.k. Had anyone else but you told me this, even against Haynes, I would have turned on my heel and walked away."

"I hope it isn't true---I hope it is all a hideous nightmare, born of my dismay when I found myself going through s.p.a.ce!" breathed d.i.c.k fervently.

"What are you going to do about this?" asked Greg huskily.

"Nothing whatever."

"You are not going to mention Haynes to anyone else?"

"No, sirree! I shall keep my eyes open a bit when Haynes is around; that is all."

"I hope it isn't true---oh, I hope it isn't true," breathed Greg fervently. "But I know you're no liar, d.i.c.k, and you're no dreamer of dreams! Confound it, I almost wish you hadn't told me this.

But I asked you to."

Greg's face was a queer ashen gray in color.

At that moment the call for dinner formation sounded.

"You're all ready, d.i.c.k, so hustle along. I've clean forgotten to get myself ready. You hustle, and I'll try not to be late in the formation."

As Cadet Prescott hastened along through the lower corridor, he came face to face with the turnback.

Haynes stopped short, his jaw drooping. For just a second he stiffened his arms as though to throw himself in an att.i.tude of defence.

Halting, without speaking or raising a hand, d.i.c.k Prescott looked squarely into the other man's eyes.

Haynes turned ghastly pale, his jaw moving nervously as though he would speak and could not.

A smile of scorn flashed into Prescotts face. Haynes fairly writhed beneath that contemptuous look. Then, still without a word or a sound, Prescott pa.s.sed on.

"He did it!" muttered d.i.c.k to himself.

Yet, with the certainty of the turnbacks guilt, Prescott did not wish Haynes any personal harm. The only greatly perturbed thought that ran through d.i.c.k's mind was:

"That fellow is not fit for the Army. Must he be allowed to go on and graduate?"

Thrice during the dinner period d.i.c.k allowed his glance to rove over to the turnback. Not once did he catch Haynes's eye, but that young man was making only a pretence at eating.

"If he really pushed me from the train," muttered Prescott to himself, "I hope Haynes worries about it until he fesses cold in some study and so has to leave the Military Academy. For he'll never be fit to be an officer. He couldn't command other men with justice."

CHAPTER XVII

MR. CADET SLOWPOKE

Despite the fact that he had been through the first half of the year before, Haynes actually did go somewhat stale in some of the studies.

Some of the cadets who lived near enough were permitted to go home at the Christmas holidays, and the turnback was among this number.

Yet Haynes came back. In the January examinations he stood badly, getting place rather near the foot of the second cla.s.s. Yet he pulled through and retained his place in the corps.

d.i.c.k and Greg, who did not go home over the holidays, both did fairly well in January. Each secured a number not far above the bottom of the second third of the cla.s.s.

On Washington's Birthday, the cadets had a holiday after dinner.

The day, however, was ten-fold joyous for d.i.c.k, because Mrs. Bentley, Laura and Belle Meade were expected on the afternoon of that day, the girls to attend the cadet hop at Cullum Hall in the evening.

d.i.c.k and Greg, in their spooniest uniforms, were at the railway station to meet the visitors.

"Quick!" cried Mrs. Bentley, after the greetings were over. "There's the stage, and its about to start. We'll all get seats in it."

"If that is the programme, Mrs. Bentley," laughed d.i.c.k, "Greg and I will have to overtake you, later on, on foot. Cadets are not allowed to ride in the stage.