“I’m not going to tell it to you.  ’Bye, old man.  I’m off for riding drill.”

Dick and Greg were in the same squad.  Those who were going for drill at this hour fell in at the command, of their squad marcher, and strode away to the riding hall.

Once inside, the cadets disposed of their uniform raincoats.  The squad marcher reported to Captain Albutt, who was their instructor for the afternoon.

“To horse!” came the crisp order.

Each cadet stepped to his mount, untying the animal and standing by.

Haynes’s heart gave a quick jump when he saw that to Dick’s lot had fallen Satan, a fiery black, the worst tempered and most treacherous horse in the lot.

“My chance is coming sooner than I had thought for”, quivered the turnback.

Dropping his handkerchief, Haynes bent over and quickly slipped the black pin in at the toe of his right boot.

“When we get into column of fours I have Prescott on my right, muttered the turnback.  He had straightened up again, in almost no time, tucking the handkerchief again inside his blouse.  His act had attracted no attention.

“Prepare to mount!” rang Captain Albutt’s voice.

Each cadet took hold of mane, bridle and saddle in the way prescribed and stood with left foot in stirrup.

“Mount!”

Jauntily each man swung up, passing his right leg over his mounts back, then settling easily into saddle.

For the first few minutes the squad walked, trotted, cantered and galloped around the tanbark in single file.  Then their instructor, riding always near the center of the floor, threw them into platoon front at the west end of the hall.  Now he gave them some general instruction as to the nature of the evolutions they were to perform.  The next command came by bugle, and the platoon broke into column of fours, moving forward at the trot, Captain Albutt riding at the left flank near the head of the column.

As the horses fell into column of fours Haynes saw his chance.  Nearly always, in this formation, some of the horses bump their neighbors.  Haynes, by a slight twist of the bridle, threw horse over against Prescott’s.  The thing was so natural as to attract no notice.

Just as the horses touched flanks, however, Haynes, with his right foot swiftly withdrawn from its stirrup-box, gave Satan a vicious jab with the pin-point protruding from the toe of his boot.

There was a wild snort.  Satan seemed instantly bent on proving the appropriateness of his name.

Lowering his head, Satan kicked out viciously with his hind feet, throwing the horses just behind into confusion.

Almost in the same instant Satan bit the rump of a horse in front of him.

Then up reared Prescotts mount.

Dick was a good horseman, but this move had caught him unawares.  A horse at a trot is not usually hard to manage, and Prescott had not been on his guard against any such trick.